Delusions
by kgmohror
Summary: string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.
1. Chapter 1

andom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

Abby took another sip of coffee, then set down her cup and rested her chin in her palm, her expression glum. She stared down at the little nest of notes on the table before her, hoping that somehow the answers that had eluded her for three weeks would suddenly leap off the page. She had sought out the quiet of the staff lounge to give her work a final look-over and to gather her composure before reporting to Lester with her findings – or lack thereof. The team status meeting was only moments away, and Abby dreaded having to admit to her colleagues that she had learned virtually nothing new. Abby wasn't accustomed to failure, and she didn't like it.

Granted, the task she had been given wasn't exactly within the scope of her expertise; she was a herpetologist, not a chemist. But they had discovered that the toxin that had been killing young drug users all over London for a month was entirely new — and there was reason to believe that wherever it was coming from had something to do with the anomalies. After all, the first confirmed death had happened at the Glastonbury Festival, in rather close proximity to an anomaly that had been detected by the ARC's detection system at almost the same time. The anomaly had opened and closed within minutes, before they could get a team on the scene. But a subsequent sweep of the area had uncovered no evidence of creature incursion or any witnesses to the anomaly phenomena. They thought they had dodged the proverbial bullet …

But when a string of strange deaths was traced back to a bizarre incident at the Festival – and that the victim died raving about spinning lights and creatures – it began to look like they hadn't been so lucky after all.

Not long after, a new party drug had started turning up in underground clubs. It quickly acquired the name Gob, as users described an experience that left them gobsmacked. When ingested, it produced a vivid hallucinatory experience and intense euphoria … and, quite often, death. At least 15 deaths had been attributed to the drug already, victims apparently succumbing to cardiac arrest while in the throes of horrific visions only they could see.

So far the authorities hadn't been able to trace the substance to its source, or even obtain a sample of it. All they had were an ever-increasing number of bodies and autopsy reports suggesting the victims had subjected their bodies and brains to something so strange that it seemed almost alien. If the toxin did come from the other side of an anomaly, the Home Office was particularly keen that the origin was discovered and neutralized by the ARC team rather than local investigators. This lent a special urgency to the operation, and Abby felt the burden of expectation heavy on her. As the team's reptile expert, she was tasked with identifying what kind of creature might account for a substance like this. So far, however, she'd had precious little success.

Abby knew psychedelic effects could be produced by ingesting a wide variety of plants, fungi, insects and animals. But whatever produced this stuff was an entirely new species … possibly a very ancient one. What it was, where and when it came from and who was harvesting and processing its deadly emissions remained a mystery.

And that was all Abby had to report to Lester and the rest of the team.

She rifled through her papers, trying to sort them into a sequence that might yield some insight. She was tired and frustrated … and suddenly aware of a strange buzzing sound. A shout came from behind her – "Incoming!" – at almost the same moment that a shoebox-sized contraption with propellers on all four sides dropped like a stone from overhead, crashing onto the table. It overturned Abby's coffee cup, sending a cascade of hot liquid over her sheaf of papers and into her lap. She leapt to her feet, shocked and sputtering. "Connor!"

The computer whiz stood in the doorway, a radio control unit in his hand and a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry, Abby. It got away from me."

Abby snatched up her sodden notes, shaking the remains of her beverage off the pages and brushing at her wet clothes. There was no time to change before the meeting, and she'd be hard-pressed to salvage much of anything from her ruined papers. As if she wasn't under enough pressure! "Damn it! Just what do you think you're playing at, Connor Temple?" she snapped.

He hurried to help her, grabbing a fistful of napkins from the counter to sop at the spreading pool of coffee around his crumpled device and the remnants of her research. "I was testing a remote surveillance unit I've been working on," he explained. "When I've perfected it, we can send it through anomalies for aerial reconnaissance."

"Come on, Connor. You know you were just messin' about with your new toy, like a big kid," Abby retorted. "I don't know why I'm surprised. I've long since given up expecting you to behave like an adult."

She regretted the words even as they left her lips. In fact, she _had_ seen a change in her former flatmate since the recent death of his mentor, Dr. Nick Cutter. His boyish enthusiasm had been blunted by that tragedy, and the goofy grin that used to light up his open, eager face had been replaced by a solemn, slightly anxious frown. They had all been gutted by Cutter's death, but Connor had been devastated. It worried her to see him so sad, so driven to live up to the confidence his hero had expressed in him with his dying breaths. Just how _much_ she worried about Connor Temple worried Abby even more.

Now, seeing the wounded look in his puppyish eyes, Abby felt a wave of remorse. It had been an accident, after all. As awkward and infuriating as Connor Temple could be at times, he had the best heart of anyone she knew. She reached out and gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. "Sorry I went off on you like that, Connor," she sighed. "I'm just so knackered by all this." She gestured at the pile of damp papers and shrugged miserably.

His brown eyes softened as he looked at her and he smiled encouragingly. "You'll figure it out," he assured her. "You're the cleverest person I know … next to myself, of course."

She laughed in spite of herself, warmed by his words of support. "Well, I wish I were clever enough to come up with something to tell Lester. I suspect he doesn't have the same confidence in me that you do."

Just then the man himself appeared, striding toward them with characteristic briskness. Dressed as always in an impeccably tailored suit and silk tie, James Lester's polished appearance was a marked contrast to Abby's damp and rumpled appearance.

Lester cast a cursory glance at the chaos around them. "Dare I hope, Miss Maitland, that your current state of dishevelement is the result of a raucous celebration of having finally figured out what we're dealing with?"

Abby looked at her shoes. "Sorry, no. We just … I had a little accident."

"It was my fault," Connor interjected.

Lester gave him an arch look. "I'm stunned." He turned his attention back to the pretty young herpetologist. "No progress, then."

"No … not as such."

The administrator sighed impatiently. "How very unfortunate, as it means the effort must be placed in other hands."

"That's not fair!" Connor blurted. "Give Abby a chance, she can do this." He took a step toward Lester, and Abby grabbed his arm to calm him.

"It's all right, Connor," she murmured.

Connor stepped back, but his outrage still showed plainly on his face. "Lester, you know Abby is capable of figuring this out if you just give her a little more time. She knows more about this stuff than anybody."

Lester remained unruffled. "Unfortunately, my opinion on the matter makes very little difference. The Minister seems to believe a fresh perspective on the problem might produce a more immediate result. He's sending in his own man." Before his stunned subordinates could respond, he turned on his heel and strode off toward the conference room, calling back over his shoulder, "I'm off to meet the boffin right now, as he's expected to attend our status meeting this morning. I suggest you join me."

Connor and Abby hustled after him, firing questions at his receding back. Questions he pointedly ignored. It was only when the trio arrived at the door to the meeting room that he halted abruptly and turned to face them, holding both hands up to command silence. "I suggest you adopt a semblance of professional composure," he said crisply. "Perhaps if you impress him, he'll allow you to bask in the glow of his brilliance."

Abby paused to adjust her clothing and arrange her papers as Lester turned again, pushed open the door and entered the room, followed by Connor. Becker, Danny and Sarah were already seated around the conference table along with a distinguished-looking man, about Lester's age but rather better looking and wearing a suit even more stylish and expensive than the administrator's.

"Ah. I see our guest has preceded us," Lester said. "I assume the rest of you have already introduced yourselves to —"

"Michael!" All eyes in the room turned to the doorway, where Abby stood with a stunned look on her face.

"Abigail Maitland. What a delightful surprise." The man's voice was smooth and refined, his crisp accent clearly signaling an upper class background.

"I gather you are already acquainted with a member of our team," Lester remarked.

"I was a student of Dr. Barrington's at university," Abby said quietly, sliding into an empty chair next to Connor at the table.

A slight smile played at the corner of the academic's lips. "Student? Rather more than that, surely," he said coolly.

Abby felt the blood rush to her face as the man continued, "Abigail was my protégé, one of the most promising young minds I encountered in my entire academic career. I foresaw a brilliant career ahead of her … so you can imagine my disappointment when she ran off to become a zookeeper." He chuckled humorlessly. "But I'm glad to find that my investment in her was not entirely for naught."

Before Abby could respond, Lester spoke. "Indeed, Miss Maitland's contributions to our work here have been extremely valuable." He fixed Barrington with a level gaze. "I think you'll find she's laid quite a substantial groundwork in this case, which I'm sure will be very helpful."

"Of that I have no doubt."

"Right, then," Lester continued. "I suggest you accompany me to my office where I can brief you fully on the present situation." He briefly turned his attention to the others at the table. "We'll reconvene once Dr. Barrington is up to speed."

As Barrington rose to follow him, Lester shot a quick look at Abby, who was studiously avoiding her colleagues' questioning glances. "In the meantime," he said, "Abby will compile her findings into a detailed report for Dr. Barrington's careful review."

"Absolutely!" Abby answered, giving her boss a grateful look. "I'm on it." She scooped up her papers and made a quick exit. Behind her she heard Lester issue a final order with his customary brusqueness: "The rest of you … go run a security drill or something."


	2. Chapter 2

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

Gavin hunched against the wall of his cluttered bedsit. Though it was midday, the room was dark; soon after moving in two years ago, Gavin had deemed it advisable to cover the windows with black plastic to discourage prying eyes. Back then he'd needed to conceal certain chemistry-related activities that provided him with his living. Now his primitive security measures hid a bigger secret. Bigger, and more dangerous.

The room was quiet … so quiet that Gavin might have imagined himself to be completely alone. But an occasional rustling from the other side of the room reminded him that wasn't the case. And though he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and fought the urge to look into that dark corner, eventually he succumbed. He looked – and the thing looked back. Luminous green eyes, large as cueballs, stared relentlessly out from the enormous plastic tank in which it was confined.

Gavin had had to sell all of Alex's gear to afford the 200-gallon aquarium that took up a large part of the floor space in the room. It was necessary, though; there was no way Gavin was going to let that thing creep around loose. No, it was absolutely essential to maintain complete control. The trouble was, Gavin had a sinking feeling that things were rapidly slipping _out_ of his control.

It had been great at first. Amazing. As soon as Gavin had figured out how to process the slimy substance the creature produced into a dry tablet form, he had a product to sell. And the demand, he soon discovered, was HUGE. Whatever this stuff was, it produced a crazy high more intense than anybody had ever experienced. True, its potency made it particularly dangerous. Gavin had seen what it could do in its raw form – Alex's violent reaction and death still caused Gavin an occasional twinge of guilt. Mostly, though, it gave him a healthy respect for the stuff; enough so that he hadn't dared try it himself. Fortunately, there was no shortage of volunteers to help him refine his process. And while there were a few unfortunate … incidents …. along the way, Gavin was confident he had hit upon the precise formulation. It still produced the wild head trip and euphoria, but didn't kill. At least, not all the time.

But soon after his product hit the street, things started to get complicated. The demand far outstripped his supply, for one thing. It took a large amount of slime to produce a small amount of Gob, and while the creature secreted copious amounts of the goo, Gavin was wary of overharvesting his cash crop. After all, there was only one of these things in the world, as far as he knew – a priceless and irreplaceable commodity. And Gavin was beginning to wonder if it was getting sick or something. It had eaten voraciously when he first brought it home – Gavin found through trial and error that the creature preferred meat: raw, bloody and plentiful. The cost of keeping it satisfied had constituted a significant outlay in the first few weeks. Over the last days, though, the thing had started rejecting the cheap cuts and organ meats Gavin had tossed into its tank. The offal lay rotting in the bottom of the tank, but Gavin had no intention of reaching in to retrieve it.

Gavin had other things to worry about, too. As word of the drug spread, it had started to attract attention – from the law, obviously, but also from certain powerful players in London's underworld. Word had gotten back to Gavin that these people were very interested in finding the source of the drug – and when they did, Gavin knew, he'd be strongly "encouraged" to share. Gavin had been in the business long enough to know how to cover his tracks, but he understood that it was only a matter of time …

The worst thing, though, was being alone here with that thing watching him. Watching and, Gavin sometimes feared, something more. Its eyes bored into him, exerting a strange, almost hypnotic power. Gavin wondered if it were trying to control his mind, make him do things. Lately his sleep was disturbed by weird, terrifying dreams – visions of primordial forests, savage beasts. Sometimes, awaking from these nightmares, Gavin thought he could hear the thing whispering to him in a language too low, too alien, for him to make out. He was haunted by the fear that some night he _would_ understand … and that it would mean the creature had become his master.

Now Gavin cowered in the darkness, listening to soft, low-pitched grunts from the tank. Feeling vaguely ill, he got slowly to his feet and reached for a small plastic take-away container and long-handled spoon. Reluctantly he shuffled across the room, toward those cold, unblinking eyes. It was harvest time again.


	3. Chapter 3

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

A couple of hours tucked away in the paleo-botany lab with her laptop was just about enough to help Abby regain her equilibrium. Surrounded by the lush, exotic greenery and some of her smaller reptiles, Abby had always considered this her special place. Even Connor knew better than to come in here without an invitation. But she expected Barrington would be setting up his kit in here. Just one more thing for him to take from her.

Abby stabbed at the print button on her keyboard and waited for her report to print. Of course she would share her findings with her former professor — identifying the source of this toxin was more important than any personal animosities or lingering resentments. But the moment she handed off her report, Abby's obligation was fulfilled. She'd already filled out paperwork to take a holiday — a nice, long one — to commence immediately at the conclusion of the team meeting Lester had rescheduled for … Abby glanced down at her watch … just about now.

She smiled grimly as she imagined herself dramatically dropping her report in front of Barrington and walking out of the meeting. Perhaps she and Jack could spend a few weeks abroad, getting to know each other again; her baby brother's aimless attitude worried her, and she had been looking for an opportunity to have a serious talk with him about his future. It was the least she could do for him, after all. She was his only living relative – and he was her responsibility.

As the last page of her report dropped into the printer tray, Abby scooped it up and slipped it with the rest into a slim file she tucked under her arm. Freshly dressed in a t-shirt, form-fitting jeans and a smartly cut leather jacket, she marched determinedly off to face Dr. Michael Barrington again — this time on her terms.

But he wasn't there. Instead, when she reached the conference room this time, she found Becker, Sara, Danny and Connor in a tight cluster, engaged in an intense, half-whispered conversation … that came to an abrupt halt when they caught sight of her. Swallowing hard, Abby quashed a surge of indignation as she looked at their startled, guilty expressions. If it had been anyone else, Abby knew she would have been just as curious. But knowing she was the object of their speculation stung. She fixed Connor with a reproachful look, and felt a little satisfaction when his face reddened and he looked away.

Sarah flashed her a bright, if somewhat awkward, smile and crossed to Abby. "You look amazing," she said warmly. Abby was immediately sorry she had taken the time to fix her hair and make-up; she didn't want to give the impression she had anyone to impress here.

"Thanks," she answered her friend, then cast a quick look around the room. "Um, where's —"

"— the illustrious Dr. Barrington?" James Lester pulled the conference doors closed behind him as he entered. "He has retired to what is, I'm sure, an extremely well-appointed suite of rooms provided by your government and paid for out of my budget." He gestured for the team to take their places around the conference table.

"Since it seems Dr. Barrington will be an adjunct member of the team for some time," Lester began once they had settled themselves, "it seems prudent to make sure we are all on the same page. The Minister is very keen that Barrington be given every cooperation while he's with us." He crossed his arms and regarded his team archly. "Assuming, of course, his contributions warrant it."

"Frankly, I find it hard to see how some ivy-tower academic messing about is going to contribute anything but a damned nuisance," Danny snorted.

Lester gave his new team leader a sharp look. "Thank you for that eloquent assessment, Mr. Quinn. Sadly, the situation we're up against would seem to call for a slightly different set of skills than you bring to the table. Our immediate task, after all, is to identify where this toxin comes from." He shrugged diffidently. "Of course, once we do, we will certainly invite you to bludgeon whatever it is to death with your usual efficiency."

Connor, who had been listening with increasing agitation, now spoke up. "Yeah, but we don't need some outsider who doesn't know anything about the ARC and the Cutter's work comin' in here to muck about." He nodded in Abby's direction, "Besides, Abby is as capable as this bloke is of finding out what's going on."

"Actually, that's not true." Abby spoke quietly. "Thanks, though." She gave Connor a quick, appreciative smile, then became serious again. "The fact is that Michael Barrington is the world's foremost expert on psychoactive properties of living organisms. Whatever I might know about the subject I learned from him, and that's only a tiny portion of what he's discovered." She paused and sighed softly. "Whatever else he may be, the man is a genius."

"Hmm, so I've been given to understand," Lester responded. "Indeed, he made quite a point of sharing his credentials with me during our interview this afternoon. He also assured me that he's been completely advised of all aspects of our operation here and comes with the highest security clearances."

"So we're just supposed to give him free rein to poke about into whatever he wants around here?" Becker remarked tersely. "Thank you, but I'll want to see those security clearances before he gets access to my systems."

"All necessary precautions and standard security measures will of course be enforced during Dr. Barrington's stay with us," Lester responded. "The fact that he's been brought in to work on this one operation does not entitle him to his own key to the executive washroom." He ignored the ripple of laughter around the table and turned to Abby. "Miss Maitland, I'm wondering if there is anything else about Dr. Barrington that you'd care to share with us."

Abby felt like the proverbial deer in the headlights as all eyes turned to her. "I'm … um … not really sure…" she trailed off, then suddenly took a deep breath. "All right then, full disclosure," she said, giving Lester a steely look. "I was Dr. Barrington's research assistant … and … we had a personal relationship. It ended rather badly."

Abby saw raised eyebrows all around the table, except for Lester, who looked distinctly unimpressed. "Thank you, Miss Maitland, the colorful details of your personal life aren't my chief interest at the moment. I simply need to know two things from you: Can we trust Barrington — and will you be able to work with him?"

"I don't believe Dr. Barrington would do anything to put the ARC or our operations in jeopardy," Abby answered carefully. "And he will no doubt maintain strict confidentiality. Dr. Barrington is very good at keeping secrets." She pushed her file folder across the table toward Lester. "As for working with him, I don't believe that will be an issue. My notes are very detailed, and Dr. Barrington certainly has no need of my help."

"On the contrary, he was quite adamant that you will be invaluable to him in the lab," Lester said. "Whatever the circumstances of your former … association … he thinks very highly of your skills."

"That's very flattering," Abby said coldly, "but I had rather planned to take a holiday. I've already put in."

"You're going away?" Connor's voice contained surprise and concern. "For how long?"

"Actually, I've had to issue a moratorium on personal leaves for the moment," Lester said smoothly. "Given the urgency of the present issue, all hands are needed on deck." He noted Abby's look of indignation. "I do understand that this situation may create some awkwardness for you, Miss Maitland. However, in spite of your confidence in Barrington's _professional _integrity, I think it wise that someone I know I can trust remain closely involved in the project. That is, if you think you can manage all right, given the circumstances."

"Come on, Lester, you can't put her in that position," Connor interjected. "It's obvious she doesn't like the guy. You shouldn't make her be around him. Who knows what he really wants with her."

Abby flushed with sudden anger. "You don't need to speak for me, Connor," she snapped. "I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. What happened between Michael and me was a long time ago. I'm certainly professional enough to work with him if needed. And it's just possible," she added bitterly, "that it's actually my _skills_ that he's interested in."

"I'm sorry, Abby, I didn't mean – " Connor stammered, but Abby was in no mood this time to forgive him.

"You can tell Dr. Barrington I will meet him in the lab tomorrow morning to go over what I've done so far," Abby said, rising. "Now, unless there's anything more, I'm going home. I told Jack I'd be early tonight." Before anyone could respond, she swept out of the room and fairly bolted for the car park.


	4. Chapter 4

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

Abby was at work very early the next morning – she wanted to get to the lab before Barrington, let him see he was on HER turf. She had been subordinate to him in the past, but this time they were peers. She was proud of the work she'd done as a member of the ARC team, and there was no way Michael Barrington was going to make her feel like an ignorant student again. She'd lain awake much of the night trying to prepare herself for this … what? Reunion? Confrontation? Abby had never expected to see him again, had vowed not to. Yet here he was, insinuating himself into her life again, into her work, and there wasn't a damned thing she could do about it.

Despite her bravado at the meeting yesterday, Abby wasn't entirely sure she could work with Barrington. Simply seeing him had slashed open old wounds she had almost forgotten existed. Almost. If she could establish boundaries from the outset, though, make him understand absolutely that she was in control of her own life now, she might just pull this off.

Unfortunately, her careful plan was derailed before it began. Despite her early arrival, she was surprised to find Barrington already there. He was pacing in front of the paleo-botany lab, studying the contents of a folder – which Abby immediately recognized as the one she had given Lester the day before. He looked up as she approached … and smiled. "Good morning, Abigail."

If anything could have knocked Abby off balance, that surely was it. She wasn't sure she had ever seen the man smile before, even back when they were as close as two people could be. Startled, she covered her confusion by opening her shoulder bag and rummaging for her scan card. Finding it, she slid it quickly across the security screen and the door to the lab clicked open.

"I didn't expect you so early," she said as she led him into the lab. "As I recall, you never arrived at your own lab before 10 am." She gestured to Barrington to set his well worn leather bag on the lab table. "You used to say early hours were invented for the undergrad lab rats to do the grunt work before you arrived to do the real science."

"Did I really say that?" The professor sounded bemused, almost surprised. "No wonder my student evaluations were so low." He chuckled softly and Abby stared at him with undisguised shock. "You're surprised," he said quietly, "but I think you'll find I've changed my perspective on a lot of things since the last time we saw each other."

Abby had no idea how to respond to that, so she nodded at the file folder still in his hand. "I see you got my report."

"Yes, Lester messengered it over last night. It's extremely thorough. Excellent work."

"Thank you." Despite herself, Abby felt a tiny glow of satisfaction at having impressed him — and immediately berated herself for it. Old habits die hard, she realized.

Barrington set the file down and looked across the table at her. "You've clearly developed into the keen scientist I knew you could be. I'm proud of you."

Abby felt anger flare in her. "Please, Michael. Spare me the compliments … and don't think of congratulating yourself on my so-called development. Anything I've achieved here has been in spite of you, not because of you."

"You still resent me."

"Resentment doesn't begin to describe what I feel."

"Please know that I'm truly sorry for what transpired, Abigail," he said. "If you had just stayed long enough to let me handle the situation, instead of running off …"

"The situation?" Abby's voice was becoming shrill, and she fought to control her emotions. "I think it best, Dr. Barrington, that we confine our interaction to the task at hand. What happened between us is in the past, and I intend that it remain there."

"That may be difficult."

"Then perhaps we shouldn't work together."

Barrington ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "You know more about this case than anyone, and you understand how things work around here. I was brought in because the Ministry felt my expertise could be useful. The ARC needs me, Abigail … and I need you."

"You don't need me, Michael. I think you made that perfectly clear five years ago."

"That's not true."

"Really?" Abby's anger was rising again. "If you don't believe me, perhaps we should ask your wife. I expect she might have some thoughts on the subject."

"Barbara and I are no longer together."

Abby laughed humorlessly. "Congratulations! I'm happy for her … and I'm sure it makes things a great deal more convenient for you as well."

"Clearly you're not in a frame of mind to discuss this rationally," Barrington sighed, "and I'm late for a meeting with your chief of security … Becker, is it?"

"You'd better go then."

The scientist leaned over the table and looked intently at Abby. "I do hope we'll be able to make this work, Abigail. It's important to me that you believe I'm truly here to be of assistance." His eyes softened in a way Abby had never seen before. "And I really have changed."

Abby waited until the lab doors swung closed behind him before letting loose of a long, shuddering breath. She felt herself trembling all over, and she was furious with herself for allowing him to get to her like that. She WOULD get hold of herself, she vowed, and when he came back –

A sudden noise from behind one of the storage lockers cause Abby to whirl in alarm. To her amazement, a familiar figure stumbled out from the narrow alcove.

"Connor? What the hell?" Abby felt her heart thud as she realized that he had been in the lab the whole time … and the expression on his face left no doubt that he had heard every word of her conversation with Barrington.

"Abby! I – I was looking for some of that special kibble you give Rex," Connor stammered. "Sid is off his feed, and I thought-"

"How dare you spy on me! Just what were you hoping to find out?"

"I swear, Abby, it wasn't anything like that. I was in the back when you and Dr. Barrington came in, and when you started talking, I just … didn't know what to do."

Abby turned away so he wouldn't see the tears swimming in her eyes. "I'm sure you found the sordid details of my life very entertaining."

"Um … no …" Connor looked stricken, "Of course not. I'm just … surprised."

"Don't you judge me, Connor Temple," Abby hissed. "You don't know anything about me or my life."

"I do know you, Abby," Connor answered, his voice almost pleading. "And that's how I know that whatever happened between you and Dr. Barrington wasn't your fault."

Somehow, those words hurt more than knowing he'd been eavesdropping on her. "I think you should just leave now, Connor," she murmured.

"Abby –"

She turned to face him, not bothering to hide the tears that now coursed over her cheeks. "JUST GO!"

Looking as if he'd been slapped, Connor brushed past her and out of the lab.

And once again, Abby found herself alone.


	5. Chapter 5

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

The atmosphere in the darkened room was warm and strangely oppressive. A low-pitched, persistent thrumming seemed to emanate from everywhere at once, creating an almost palpable vibration in the otherwise still chamber. Suddenly there was a rattling of a key in the lock and the door to the flat flew open. A huddled figure scuttled in, closed the door and fumbled hastily to secure several bolt and chain locks. He was dressed in several layers of stained and disheveled clothing and a stocking cap that was pulled far down on his head. Securing the final lock, he pulled off a pair of fingerless gloves and clawed at large-framed, dark glasses covering much of his face. Removing them, he stood blinking with bleary, red-rimmed eyes trying to adjust to the gloom.

Gavin looked around the room suspiciously, then laid his head against the closed door, listening. He didn't think he'd been followed, but he couldn't be sure. He caught sight of the battered overstuffed chair, almost the only piece of furniture in the place, and scurried over to it. He pushed the chair across the room, its legs making a harsh, grating sound as it scraped over the wooden floor. After tipping the chair backward until its tall back hooked under the doorknob, Gavin stepped back, panting, to assess his effort. That was better, he decided. Not safe, but it would have to do for the time being.

Stumbling away from the door, Gavin began pulling things out of the multiple pockets of his pants and shirts, absent-mindedly dropping them on the floor. Cash. Wads and rolls of 20, 50 and 100 pound notes. And that wasn't all — almost every surface of the room was piled with similar bundles of currency. Thousands of pounds were strewn throughout the flat. When he reached his bed, Gavin used one arm to sweep yet another mountain of notes off onto the floor and sank down onto the sagging mattress. He was so tired. But he couldn't rest … not while he knew they were out there, waiting for their chance to break in, to steal his real treasure.

A month ago, just the idea of this much money would have sent Gavin into near-orgasmic paroxysms. But now he understood how unimportant that was. He couldn't spend it, anyway; it would only attract attention. And that, he knew, would be very, very dangerous. No. There was only one thing that mattered: keeping his secret. Protecting it.

It was getting harder. For one thing, with Alex gone he was having to manage distribution himself. Dealing with the lowest characters of the trade was not only beneath him, Gavin felt, it could get him dead. The network of pushers was growing increasingly aggressive, demanding more of the product than Gavin could produce. There were veiled – and not so veiled – threats. Gavin had been followed at least twice – was sure of it. But he had managed to shake his pursuers. The trouble was, Gavin was having increasing difficulty picking out his enemy. The cute waitress at the pub, the fat man who jostled him getting on the bus, even a stray dog that had trailed him two blocks from the butchers' … everywhere Gavin looked, sinister eyes seemed to look back at him. It was getting too hot here.

He struggled to his feet and lurched across the room to the glass tank in which his precious waited for him. The creature continued the deep-throated throbbing it had begun two days ago. Gavin stood over the tank, swaying to the sound as if to some strange music. Gently, tenderly, he reached into the tank and stroked the head of the creature. The sticky substance that had so transformed Gavin's world flowed over his fingers, coated his palm. It felt cool and silky and Gavin closed his eyes, drifting into a daze. Behind his eyes, colors blossomed and pulsed in time to the creature's hum … and Gavin smiled.


	6. Chapter 6

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

Abby found Connor where she expected, behind the console of his anomaly detector, fine tuning the device. He didn't hear her enter the control center, so she took a deep breath and spoke softly. "Connor?"

He jumped at the sound, striking his head on the edge of the console. "Ow."

"Are you okay?" Abby hurried around the bank of screens to help him to his feet.

"Uh huh," he answered, rubbing his head as he regarded her warily. "Just a bump."

"I'm glad." Seeing his eyes widen, she hurried to explain, "I mean, I'm glad you're not hurt. Not that you bumped your head …" she trailed off, feeling like an idiot. He stood looking at her, clearly not knowing how to respond.

"I was wondering," she said, keeping her voice low so as not to attract the notice of the half dozen or so technicians working around them, "if we could go somewhere and talk."

"Um … sure. I guess. Where?"

"Someplace we won't be disturbed. I thought maybe the Mini? It's in the carpark."

The oddness of her request was evident from his puzzled look. "The Mini. If that's what you want, okay." He glanced down at the spanner in his hand. "I've got to make one quick adjustment here … meet you at the car in five minutes?"

"Okay." She gave him a slight, uncertain smile. "Thank you, Connor."

Abby sat in the driver's seat of the Mini, waiting as five minutes, then ten passed. I hadn't occurred to her that Connor might not show up. I mean, this was Connor. He didn't have a deceptive, hurtful bone in his body. On the other hand, she had been so harsh with him that morning. She wouldn't blame him if he gave her a wide berth. The thought that Michael Barrington might have cost her Connor's friendship made her feel sick inside. Just as she was about to give up and go back inside alone, she spied Temple's lanky form loping across the carpark toward her.

"Sorry," he said, climbing into the passenger seat beside her. "Becker snagged me as I was leaving to tell me about a fault in one of the security arrays."

"It's okay. I'm just glad you're here."

"Are you?"

"Of course." She peered at Connor, trying to read his strange mood.

"Good. I mean, I was afraid after what I did – "

"What _you_ did?" Abby leaned over and put a hand on his arm. "Connor, I asked you out here so I could apologize to _you_. I was completely out of line this morning. I'm sorry."

Connor smiled at her, but his eyes were worried. "Don't sweat it. You were … upset."

She knew he would never ask her to explain her conversation with Barrington, and she felt a welling up of affection for him. Affection, and trust.

"Connor, I want to tell you what happened between me and Michael."

"You don't have to."

"I know that. But you're my –" she faltered, suddenly unsure of herself. "You're my best friend. I know what you must be imagining, and I can't bear to have you thinking any worse of me than I deserve."

"I could never think badly of you, Abby. You know that." His quiet intensity reminded her of another time, a whole other world, when he had risked his life to save her and told her he loved her. Those words had never been repeated, but their significance had continued to resonate between them, just below the surface.

"Yeah, I do. But still … I need for you to hear this."

Connor looked as if he'd rather be facing an angry raptor than sitting in that car. But he swallowed hard and nodded. "Okay."

"I don't want anyone else to know, though, okay? Not Becker or Danny or anybody."

"Of course not."

Abby took a deep breath and looked down at her hands folded in her lap. "In the middle of my second year at university, my parents were killed while on holiday in Portugal. Jack was only 15, there were no close relatives … I knew I had to take care of him. I was going to quit uni and go to work. Dr. Barrington was one of my lecturers, and he knew how interested I was in herpetology. When he heard I was leaving, he called me to his office. He said I was too promising a student to give up my studies, and offered to arrange an internship for me in his lab. He told me it would be better for me _and_ Jack if I carried on, got a proper degree. That I'd be in a better position to take care of my brother if I took care of myself first."

Abby paused to catch her breath and steady her emotions.

"I let myself be convinced. The truth was, I didn't want the responsibility of a teenager. I wanted a life, a career – a future of my own. And so I let Jack be taken into care, and I accepted Dr. Barrington's offer to work with him. How could I have been so selfish?"

"You were in shock, scared … barely more than a child yourself," Connor interjected.

Abby shook her head. "No, don't try to excuse me, Connor. My brother needed me, and I wasn't there for him."

"I started working with Dr. Barrington," she continued, "and the truth was, I loved it. He exposed me to new ideas and experiences, told me I was brilliant and made me feel like I was the most important person in the world. I felt taken care of and safe in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. And when he said I was beautiful, desirable … it felt good."

As she spoke, Abby was aware of a growing tension in Connor's body. She stole a quick glance and saw his jaw was set in a hard line. Shame washed over her as she felt his disgust. But there was no going back now. He would know it all.

"Eventually we got … close. I knew he was married. He told me it was in name only, that he and his wife lived completely separate lives. Then one evening I attended a cocktail party hosted by the dean of the college. Barrington was there. So was _Mrs._ Barrington. The dean introduced us, and I realized immediately that she _knew_. She knew, and she was hurt – by me. By what I had done."

Tears were rolling freely down Abby's cheeks, and she let them. "I submitted my resignation to Dr. Barrington the next day, and withdrew from university a week later. It took a while, but I finally found work as a zookeeper, the job I had when I stumbled across the first anomaly and ended up here at the ARC."

She fell silent and waited for Connor's reaction. None came. After a moment she could no longer stand it. "I'm sorry, Connor. I know this must change how you think of me."

"That bastard!" Connor exploded. "He's going to pay for this."

"What? No, Connor. I don't want you doing anything reckless, or even saying anything to him. Please, promise me you won't."

"He took advantage of you, Abby. You were vulnerable and scared and he –"

She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not proud of that period of my life, but I take responsibility for it. I was an adult. I knew what I was doing."

Connor was silent. He turned his face away from her, staring out the passenger side window.

"Connor … you won't say anything, will you?"

He shook his head.

"Thank you. It means a lot to me that –"

Connor abruptly pulled the handle on the car door and stepped out, still not looking at her. "I've got to get back. Becker wants me to look at that security fault."

"Okay."

Abby watched him walk slowly back to the ARC, shoulders hunched and head lowered, and willed him to look back at her. He didn't.


	7. Chapter 7

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

Abby, Barrington and Sarah walked down a long corridor on the third floor of Maudsley Hospital's acute care wing. The walls were painted a soothing powder blue, but otherwise the atmosphere was austere and surprisingly quiet for a psychiatric facility. The sound of their footsteps on the gleaming tile floor echoed in the empty space. Reaching the end of the corridor, they encountered a reception centre staffed by a middle-aged woman in scrubs the same color as the walls. Sarah took the lead, walking up to the desk and extending a hand.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Sarah Page, and these are my colleagues, Dr. Michael Barrington and Ms Abby Maitland. We're here to see a patient, Mr. Gerald Willingham."

The matron ignored Sarah's proffered handshake. "We call them clients here," she said. "And visitors aren't permitted in this ward."

"This isn't a social call," Barrington interrupted, a little brusquely. "We believe this patient may be connected to a string of other, similar cases of unknown chemical toxicity – and it's imperative that we be allowed to evaluate him."

As the ward attendant visibly bristled in response to Barrington's tone, Sarah hurried to smooth things over. "What Dr. Barrington means is that there is a certain urgency to this matter, which is why we have of course obtained all necessary clearances." She opened her slim pocketbook and withdrew a document, showing it to the matron so the official Ministry seal was clearly visible. The woman studied it a moment.

"I'll have to call the Resident," she said.

"Absolutely! We'll want to confer with him about this case anyway," Sarah answered calmly. Abby admired her friend's unflustered demeanor; since Jenny Lewis's recent departure from the ARC, Sarah had been called upon to exercise her charm in many such situations that called for diplomacy and discretion.

The woman picked up the phone receiver on the desk and punched a few numbers into the keypad. After a moment, she began speaking quietly to someone on the other end of the extension. "There are three people here asking to see Client 2319," she almost whispered. "They say they're doctors, and they have papers from the Ministry … yes, a Dr. Barrington and Dr. Page … No, the Home Office … right. Thank you, doctor." She hung up the phone and looked back at her visitors. "Dr. Mukherjee will be with you shortly," she said curtly.

Sarah gave her a sunny smile. "Thank you so much for your help. We'll wait right over there."

Abby and Barrington followed Sarah a little way away from the reception centre. Out of earshot of the matron, Sarah frowned at Barrington. "I hope you'll be more tactful with the physician in charge, or we're likely to be booted out of here," she said.

Barrington nodded. "You're right. I'm sorry. I'm afraid I've become accustomed to having to bulldoze my way through bureaucratic obstacles from my academic career." He paused and gave Abby a slight smile. "And Abigail can tell you that I tend to be passionate about things that are important."

At that moment a slender man in a white lab coat approached. "Good afternoon," he said stiffly. "I understand you are inquiring about one of our recent admissions."

"Yes," said Sarah, extending her hand again. This time it was accepted. "A young man who was brought in three days ago with a drug-induced psychosis." She handed Dr. Mukherjee the documents that the Home Office had promised would give them access to the patient. The ARC team had been alerted earlier that morning that a 20-year-old student from Brixton had been referred to Maudsley after becoming psychotic after ingesting Gob at an underground party. It was the first time they'd encountered a user who wasn't dead, and Abby and Barrington were eager to see, and hopefully talk to, the patient.

Dr. Mukherjee scrutinized the document Sarah provided. "You're physicians?" he asked doubtfully.

"Researchers, actually. The drug we believe this young man took has been linked to a number of deaths over the past several weeks," said Sarah. "The authorities are quite anxious to trace this substance as a matter of the public health and safety – and we're assisting in that effort. We hope to interview the patient to find out more about how the drug is being distributed." Her confident manner and warm smile seemed to sway the man.

"You can see him, but I wouldn't count on getting much information out of him," he said. "So far his mania has proved entirely intractable, despite treatment with the full arsenal of anti-psychotic medications. A CT scan shows massive damage to the hippocampus and pineal gland. Frankly, we have no expectations of him ever recovering."

The doctor led them past the reception centre, then down a side hall lined with heavy doors. Each door had a very small window at eye level, and as they passed Abby occasionally glimpsed the "clients" within. Most appeared agitated, pacing back and forth or pounding on the walls. Despite the violence of their actions and the fact that some of them seemed to be screaming, however, no sound reached the hallway. These rooms must be very well insulated, Abby thought. Suddenly an inmate launched himself at the door just as Abby passed. He pressed his face against the window, his eyes wild and his mouth twisted into a grotesque grimace. Startled, Abby let out a little scream.

"Abigail!" Barrington, walking just ahead of her, turned reflexively and caught her in his arms as she lurched away from the door.

"Are you all right?" Sarah said, turning back to her friend.

"Yes, I'm … I'm fine," Abby said, disengaging herself from Barrington's embrace. "Just gave me a start, that's all."

"I do apologize," Mukherjee said. "This ward houses clients in an acute state of illness. We can sedate some, but others are resistant to pharmacological interventions. So we keep them in a safe environment until their symptoms subside."

"You might have warned us," Barrington snapped. He looked closely at Abby, and she saw real concern in his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay? You look a little rattled."

Abby hated to admit it, but adrenaline surging through her system was causing her heart to pound and prickly feelings to break out all over her body. She felt slightly light-headed and nauseous. Typically when she felt like this it was in response to imminent and very real danger – a rampaging raptor, for instance – and the act of confronting or fleeing the creature diffused the chemical rush. Abby felt a short kick-boxing session or run around the building would put her to rights very quickly. But those weren't options in this instance; the best she could do was try to walk it off.

"Yeah … I just need a minute," she said. "Doctor, is there someplace I can get a drink of water?"

"Nurse Gordon will be able to help you," Mukherjee said. "Shall we go back to the front desk?"

Abby waved him off. "No, I can find my own way, thanks. You go on and I'll catch you up in a minute."

Barrington looked like he might object, so Abby said firmly, "Honestly, I'll be fine in a minute. Just go." In truth, Abby was embarrassed at her response. She was proud of her small-but-mighty persona, a picture of toughness and self-sufficiency she'd worked hard to establish and maintain. She hated showing any sign of weakness … especially in front of Michael Barrington.

As Sarah and Barrington proceeded toward their destination, Abby turned and hurried back toward the reception centre. As she approached, she was surprised to hear raised voices. Turning the corner she came upon Nurse Gordon engaged in a heated exchanged with a young woman. The girl, painfully thin with long, heavily bleached hair, was distraught and weeping.

"Please, can't you just let me see him for a minute?" she sobbed. "Gerry's my fiancée. I have a right to see him."

"I'm sorry, miss. As I've told you, it's simply impossible," Nurse Gordon was trying to sound sympathetic, but it was clear she was beginning to be frustrated by the girl's persistence. "Perhaps in a few days he'll have stabilized and we can move him to one of the less secure wards."

"You're lying! I know you're keeping Gerry locked up because of what he knows. I've had Rozzers all over me grilling me about Gob. I don't know nothing about it, and neither does Gerry!"

"Listen, I have no idea what you're talking about," the matron snapped, "but I'm telling you again that you will not be allowed to see your friend. So you might as well just turn around and –" She suddenly caught sight of Abby. "Excuse me, can I help you?"

"Sorry," Abby said, approaching the desk. "Dr. Mukherjee said you'd be able to direct me to a water fountain?"

The nurse rolled her eyes and waved an arm in the general direction of the main corridor. "Down there, next to the ladies' lounge near the exit."

"Thank you," Abby said. She looked at the young girl, who was still standing at the desk, a look of desperation on her face. "Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked softly.

The girl shook her head. "I just want to see me boyfriend, but they won't let me. They've had him locked up in here three days, and I want to know what they're doing to 'im!"

"Why don't you come along with me and get a bit of fresh air," Abby said, putting her arm around the girl's slender shoulders.

The girl shrugged and allowed Abby to guide her back down the corridor. Reaching the exit, the two stepped outside and Abby helped the girl to a small bench set under a tree on the well-manicured grounds.

"I'm sorry about your boyfriend," Abby said as the girl dabbed at her swollen eyes with a tissue. "Have you been together long?"

"Two years," she said, brushing a straggle of hair out of her eyes. Abby noticed a small tattoo, a rosebud, on the inside of her wrist. "Gerry is such a great guy. He takes care of me, you know? Makes me feel special. Meeting him was the best thing that ever happened to me."

"It's nice to have someone like that in your life."

"Have you got a bloke?"

"No …" Abby felt a momentary confusion. "That is, not a boyfriend. I do have a really good friend who makes me feel that way sometimes." She gave the girl an encouraging smile. " I'm Abby, by the way."

"Linda."

"Nice to meet you, Linda, though I wish it were under better circumstances. I have to be straight with you; I came here today to see your fiancé, too."

The girl instantly pulled back. "Are you a Rozzer? Cause I got nothin' to say to you if you are."

"No, I promise you I'm not with the police. I am working with some people who are trying to find out what happened to Gerry, so we can keep it from happening to anybody else."

"Is Gerry going to be okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know. I hope so. We know so little about this new drug –" Abby shrugged helplessly.

"Bleedin' Gob. I wish I'd never heard of it!"

"How _did_ you hear of it?"

Linda eyed Abby warily. "I don't want no trouble – for me or Gerry. It warn't even like our regular crowd, yeah? We were just about havin' a bit of fun. It … it was our anniversary."

"Can you tell me what happened?" Abby placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "I promise you, you won't get in trouble, and nobody needs to know you told me."

"Well, if it might help Gerry …" Linda murmured. "We were clubbing, see? And this bloke told Gerry about this squat party."

"Did you know this man?"

The girl shook her head. "Nah, we neither of us had ever seen him before. Gerry met him at the bar and he invited us to come along to this house."

"Okay. Where was this?"

"I don't know exactly. Someplace in Hoxton, I think." She looked embarrassed. "I was fair pissed by then. Sorry."

"That's all right," Abby said soothingly. "So this house – were there a lot of other people there?"

"Not really. Twenty, maybe. It was dark, and most everybody was pretty out of it by the time we came in."

"Everybody had taken Gob?"

Linda shrugged. "Gob, or something else. Acid, E's, ice … there was a lot of stuff, you know?"

Looking at this thin, pale girl, Abby felt sad that she was clearly so knowledgeable about this dark, dangerous world. Linda was about Jack's age, and must have been pretty once. Now she was drawn and sickly-looking, her long hair hanging in stringy clumps, her clothing soiled and unkempt. Abby wondered if she had family somewhere, worrying about her – the way Abby worried about Jack. She knew her baby brother used sometimes; he had staggered in once or twice from a night out with his friends looking rather much the worse for wear. And he was chronically broke, though whether that was likely due in equal parts to his partying, his chronic gambling and the simple fact that he never seemed to hold a job more than a few weeks. Abby had tried to talk to Jack about it, but he always brushed her off – and when she pressed him once, he'd lashed out at her. "Why don't you mind yer own business," he'd snapped. "I don't remember you being so interested about my lifestyle when I was being fobbed from one foster to the next." Jack knew exactly which buttons to push with his sister, and Abby recognized that. It didn't make his words hurt any less, however, or make the guilt she'd carried for years any easier to bear. Abby knew her fear of losing Jack forever made her too easy on him. But her brother was all she had. She couldn't bear it if he cut himself off from her.

She pushed these thoughts aside and focused on the girl before her. "So you and Gerry took Gob at the party?"

The girl shook her head. "Not straight away. I was feeling kind of antsy, you know, so I had a benzo and sat down in a corner. Gerry was doing poppers, I think, and then he disappeared for a bit. When he came back he said some blokes had some new stuff he wanted us to try together."

"Gob."

The girl nodded. "Yeah, that's what they were calling it. Gerry took me to a room at the back. There were a few people in there, trippin.'"

"Then what happened?"

"Gerry told me he'd got a couple of these tablets, that they'd cost him every bob he had left. He got them as sort of an anniversary present, I guess. He was that set on us taking 'em."

Abby felt her muscles tense in expectation of what she was about to hear. "And?"

"We got down in this dark corner. Gerry handed me this little brown pill. He popped it in his mouth, and I …" she trailed off, her eyes distant as if remembering the scene.

"And after you took the pill?"

"But I didn't, see?" Linda lowered her head and let tears drop on the hands folded in her lap. "Gerry took it, but I just pretended to. I don't like to put things in my body when I don't know what they are."

Under less horrible circumstances, Abby might have rolled her eyes at this. Instead, she gently prodded Linda. "So you saw what happened to Gerry?"

The girl nodded, not looking up. "It took a few minutes. At first he got really buzzy, like he was on speed or something. Then he started going on about seeing things – like he was in the jungle or something and there was things lookin' at him. And then … then he just went off his head, you know? Started screaming about monsters chasing him, bugs clawin' at him. Giant snakes and all sort of rubbish. He was running around, trying to get out. I grabbed him and he looked right at me, but it was like he wasn't seeing me, right? His eyes were just crazy and he couldn't' stop hollering. That's when some guys took hold of us and pushed us outside. Gerry took off running down the street and I followed him. He must have run 20 blocks before he keeled over and started twitching in the gutter." Linda was sobbing now. "I started screaming for help and I guess somebody must have heard me, because a couple of minutes later the blues and twos shows up and haul Gerry and me off to hospital. The bozzers were asking me all these questions, trying to get me to tell them what Gerry took and where he got it. I was so freaked out, I couldn't answer them then, and when I got my shit together, I knew I had to keep my mouth shut." She glanced at Abby and sighed. "And then here I am, chunterin' on to you all about it."

"It's okay. You can trust me, I promise." Abby reached over and squeezed her hand.

"I hope so, or when Gerry gets out of here, he'll have my head. Only …" She looked at Abby with genuine fear in her eyes. "I don't think he's getting out, do you? If I could just see him – can you make them let me see him?"

"I don't know. I guess I could try –"

Suddenly the women's attention was drawn back to the front entrance of the hospital as the doors pushed open and Barrington and Sarah appeared, looking around frantically. Barrington caught sight of Abby and Linda and shouted across the lawn to them. "Abigail!" As he began crossing toward them, Linda jumped to her feet and started to leave. Abby grabbed her wrist. "No, don't leave. It's okay – he's my … he's working with me."

Linda pulled her arm away. "I've said too much already."

"Just a second," Abby pleaded, digging into her rucksack for a pen and a slip of paper. She hastily wrote something and handed the note to Linda. "It's my mobile number. Please, feel free to contact me if you have anything else you think I should know. Or just to talk. I really do want to help you."

The girl shoved the paper in the front pocket of her jeans, then reached out to grab Abby's hand for a second. "Thanks for listenin'," she said. "I hope you figure this out." Then she dashed off. Seconds later Barrington and Sarah were beside Abby. Barrington looked angry; Sarah's face showed concern and relief.

"Bloody hell, Abigail. What have you been playing at all this time?" Barrington barked.

"We were worried when you didn't come back," Sarah chided gently.

"Sorry," Abby said, a slightly defensive edge in her voice, "but you needn't act like I'm a toddler who wandered out into traffic. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"No, I'm sorry," Sarah said. "It's just, that place was such a horror. I'm afraid when we couldn't find you we imagined all kinds of terrible things."

Abby smiled apologetically at her friend. "I know, and I intended to come right back as I said, but I ran into this young woman." She gestured in the direction Linda had disappeared. "She's the girlfriend of the guy we came to see. I thought she might have some information. She's pretty upset and confused about what's going on." Abby stood up and started walking toward the carpark where they'd left the SUV. "Did you get anything useful from Gerry – the patient?"

Sarah fell into step beside her. "Nothing but a good sense of what this Gob can do to people. He's completely insensible."

"A gibbering idiot," Barrington added. "He'll be no use to anybody again."

Abby stopped and looked sharply at him. "That's rather a cold way of putting it," she said. "He's a human being, after all. He has people who care about him."

Barrington nodded impatiently. "Yes, of course. I don't mean to be callous. But we've wasted the entire afternoon here and have nothing to show for it."

"Don't be so sure," Abby said as they reached the SUV.

"What do you mean?" Sarah asked.

Abby looked around, noting the security cams on fixtures around the lot. "Wait until we've cleared out of here."

They climbed into the vehicle, Sarah behind the wheel, Barrington in the passenger seat and Abby in the back. Once they passed through the security gate and turned into traffic, Abby leaned forward. "Linda, the girlfriend, was with Gerry when he took the drug," she explained. "I got a good description of how it affected him and a general idea of where he got it."

"That's fantastic!" Sarah exclaimed.

Abby nodded. "And there's more." She reached her arm between the two front seats and opened her fist, revealing a small, polystyrene packet Linda had slipped into her hand as she left. Inside was a small, brown tablet.


	8. Chapter 8

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin. Two weeks into the new routine, Abby was finding working with Dr. Barrington more comfortable than she expected. To her relief, his behavior toward her had been entirely professional. He actually treated her like a colleague, an equal partner in their effort to isolate and identify the toxin that made Gob so powerful and so strange.

And they were making progress. The tablets they'd recovered from the patient at Maudsley had finally allowed them to make a spectroscopic analysis of the substance, and what they discovered was astonishing. Abby was actually looking forward to that afternoon's team status, when Barrington would share what they'd learned.

The scientist had been genuinely impressed with the micro-spectroscope they'd used to do the analysis – and astonished when she explained that it had been custom-made for her by Connor Temple. As far as Abby could tell, Barrington had had almost no interaction with Connor, and seemed to assume he was some kind of low-level technician. It gave Abby some satisfaction, and a curious feeling of pride, to inform her former mentor that Connor Temple was a genius and one of the most valuable members of their team. She told him how she'd simply mentioned in passing how useful it would be to have a compact, portable version of the bulky unit that took up so much lab space … and a few weeks later Connor had quietly set the mini-device on her lab table. It was the only one like it in the world – and it was only one of a dozen or more high-tech instruments he had developed for the team.

Abby found herself wishing she had shown more appreciation for the gift. She'd thanked him, of course, but like the rest of the team, Abby had become so accustomed to Connor's brilliance that she'd ceased to marvel at such innovations. She felt like seeking him out now and telling him how much she valued all he'd done for her and the rest of the ARC operation. But things had remained awkward between them since their conversation in the Mini. In a complex as large as the ARC, it was relatively easy to avoid each other. Once or twice, though, Abby had noticed Connor observing her and Barrington as they walked together to the lab or glancing at her across the crowded cafeteria as she ate her lunch at the small table they had usually shared before Michael Barrington had arrived and everything had changed. The past fortnight was the longest period Abby had spent without spending time with Connor since they'd been thrown together more than three years before when the ARC operation began. It was painfully clear to Abby that he viewed her differently now, and that their friendship had been fundamentally altered, perhaps irreversibly.

It was a genuine surprise, then, when Connor slipped into the chair next to her at the status meeting.

"Hi," he said, a little uncertainly.

"Hi!" Abby felt suddenly, inexplicably shy beside him. "How's it going?"

"Fine. Great. You know … the usual." He fiddled nervously with a pencil he held between his slender fingers. "So. Tomorrow is, um, second Friday, right?"

"Wow, it is. I'd completely forgotten."

Shortly after moving in together, Connor and Abby had designated the second Friday of each month as video night. It had started as a distraction from the fact that they both basically had no social lives, but had become a tradition that had helped cement their friendship – even if they rarely agreed on the definition of a good film. In three years, they'd never missed a second Friday. And since Connor had temporarily moved out of the flat so Jack could have his room, their regular get-together had assumed new importance, as it was almost the only time they got to hang out together off the clock. Abby found she missed the daily interaction they'd had as flatmates – the morning cup of coffee as they talked about the day ahead, fixing dinner together when they got home, fighting for control of the remote (she favored "Antiques Roadshow," he was mesmerized by "Celebrities on Ice").

Since Jack commandeered the flat for his usual Friday poker game and Lester barely tolerated Connor sleeping in his place, much less entertaining there, Abby and Connor had taken to holding second Friday in the staff lounge here at the ARC. One or the other of them would pick up a pizza and download the week's video selection to the flat screen. It wasn't as cozy as home, but after hours they pretty much had the place to themselves — apart from the security detail — and it allowed them to keep their routine intact.

But with the new strangeness between them, Abby expected Connor to cancel. Instead, she heard him say, "So we're still on, then?"

"Absolutely … brilliant." She flashed him a relieved, happy smile. He returned it.

"My turn to pick the vid, I think," he said in his same old way, and it made Abby feel so good to hear it that she laughed out loud.

"Fine – but you know the rules. No werewolves, aliens or androids, unless they look like Brad Pitt."

He grinned. "That severely limits my options, but I'll do me best."

While they talked, the rest of the team had filed in and taken their places. Lester sat at the head of the table, and Abby noticed Barrington to his left, giving her a hard look.

"Right, since we all seem to be here, let's get started," Lester said. "Dr. Barrington, I'm absolutely delighted to hear that you have something to report on the nature of the toxin we've been chasing for a month."

"Actually, I don't."

Abby looked up, surprised at Barrington's words. She noted that Lester was looking distinctly displeased.

"Indeed? How very disappointing. I was given to understand that some progress had been made."

"Don't get your knickers in a bunch, Lester," Barrington said. "I only meant that _I_ won't be sharing our results, which are, rest assured, very significant." He nodded at Abby. "I'd like Abigail to give the details. She's the lead investigator in this project, after all."

Abby flushed. She'd never known Michael Barrington to share credit, much less offer the spotlight to someone else. Maybe he had changed after all. She flipped open her notebook and cleared her throat.

"Finally having a sample of the substance was the breakthrough," she began. A slight quaver in her voice betrayed her nerves, but she pushed on. "It was highly diluted with a variety of other, inert components, but a spectroscopic analysis did reveal some very interesting properties."

Around the table, the team was following her words with rapt attention. She noticed Barrington nodding as she spoke, and next to her Connor was gazing at her with frank admiration. Gaining confidence, she continued. "The formulation included two toxins – a chemical closely related to 5-MeO-DMT, which shares many features of LSD, and an _Arenobufagin_-like substance that can cause cardiac arrhythmias similar to digitalis."

Danny spoke up. "I didn't understand half of that, but I get the distinct impression it's not something you'd give your mum for Christmas."

Abby nodded. "Not unless you don't think much of her. It's a nasty piece of work, but I can see why it would be popular with certain users. When ingested, it would cause a massive rush and rather vivid visions."

"Groovy," Lester commented dryly. "So it's tailor made for the 'tune-in, turn-on, drop-out' crowd. But is this some kind of designer drug cooked up by a clever teenager in the back of the garage, or did it come from something we need to know about?"

"It's definitely an organic, not synthetic, substance," Abby responded. "It shows similarities to certain natural secretions found in aquatic and amphibious species of _Bufonidae_ – true toads. Specifically, there are corollaries with the Colorado River toad and a very rare, very ancient species of frog found only in Borneo." Abby leaned her elbows on the table and regarded her colleagues seriously. "The thing is, this stuff is hugely more potent than anything produced by any known modern animal. As a defensive adaptation, it's obviously meant to neutralize something really big. Like dinosaur big. In short, if it didn't come out of an Anomaly, it's kept itself well hidden somewhere for a few million years. And somehow I don't think a field in Somerset is its natural habitat."

Lester looked distinctly worried. "So, based on your findings, what exactly is it we're dealing with here?"

"This." Abby held up a sketch of a huge, mottled brown toad. "_Beelzebufo_, literally 'Devil Toad, first identified in 2007. It was a predator of the Cretaceous period, capable of taking down even juvenile dinosaurs. Nasty piece of work."

She sat back and let the team digest this information. She had no proof, of course, but Abby felt confident that somewhere in London, a creature extinct for millions of years was churning out a deadly venom. And somebody was collecting it, processing it and putting it out on the street to be sampled by thrill-seekers always looking for the next big, exotic high.

Lester turned to Barrington. "Do you concur with Miss Maitland's summation, doctor?"

"Yes, with the exception that she left out an important point." He looked at Abby and smiled faintly. "Abigail is too modest to say it herself, but I think it's important to note that the Borneo cave frog she mentioned in passing was only discovered six years ago – by herself, on an expedition we took together up the Kapuas River in the island's interior. So if anyone in the world is qualified to recognize this toxin, it's Abigail Maitland."

Becker raised an eyebrow. "You've been to Borneo?"

Abby shrugged self-consciously, but Barrington was quick to offer more information. "Borneo, Suriname, Tristan de Cunha … I've always maintained that there can be no real science without discovery. Wouldn't you agree, Abigail?"

"There is something to be said for experiential learning, yes," Abby said quietly. "Though not every learning experience is a good one."

"I suppose you're referring to those three weeks we spent lost together in the Amazon basin," Barrington exclaimed, clearly relishing the reminiscence. "Subsisting on tree snails and curled up together under an elephant plant to keep the rain off – those were the days, eh?"

Despite Abby's nonverbal signals to him to end this trip down memory lane, Barrington kept on. "As I'm sure you already know, Abigail is a remarkable woman – the mind of a scientist and the heart of an adventurer. I've never met anyone else like her."

Barrington seemed not to notice the increasingly uncomfortable looks around the table, but Abby was only too aware of them. She had no idea what Barrington was playing at, obviously flaunting their former intimacy in front of her friends and teammates. She felt humiliated and furious, but swallowed her urge to tell him off then and there. The last thing she wanted was to make it appear they were a squabbling couple. Instead, she got pointedly ignored his remarks.

"Of course, identifying the constituents of the drug is only the first step," she said. "We've still got to trace it to its source, and in the meantime figure out how to counteract its effects."

"How do you propose to do that?" Becker asked.

"The chemical analysis has allowed us to create a synthetic version of the drug, and we'll derive an antidote from that, using what we know about antidotes that are effective with the similar substances I mentioned before. We have something in development, but have no idea if it will work."

"Ordinarily we'd be conducting animal trials to evaluate the progress of our efforts," Barrington broke in. "Unfortunately, Miss Maitland rather strenuously objects to such measures."

Abby glared at him. "Having seen what this drug does to people, I can't believe you'd consider subjecting helpless animals to it!"

Barrington gave her a condescending smile. "I know your passion on this subject, Abigail. I only meant to point out that being unable to use live subjects may complicate our work." He looked around the table. "Of course, we could always use human guinea pigs. Any volunteers?"

Danny grunted. "Thanks, I think I'll keep the variety of crazy I've already got."

"Actually, psychoactive substances can provide quite a mind-expanding experience," Barrington answered. "Just ask your young colleague." He nodded at Abby.

"You've tried this stuff?" Connor blurted.

Abby flushed. "Only in very minute quantities, and under extremely controlled conditions," she stammered. "It was part of our research at the university."

Barrington nodded. "Yes. As I recall, those trials involved mescaline, acacia mangium, cannibas, naturally, and of course several chemical compounds derived from animal secreters. And while the experiments may have been controlled, I can assure you that Miss Maitland's responses to them weren't. These substances can be very … uninhibiting."

"Shut up, Michael," Abby hissed.

Her former professor shrugged, feigning mystification. "Nothing to get upset about, my dear. All in the name of science, after all. Being open to new experiences is part and parcel of the scientific method." He turned abruptly to Connor. "How about you, Mr. Temple?" he said in a slightly challenging tone. "You seem the type that could benefit from a broadening of perspective. Care to be our test subject?"

"No!" Abby shouted.

"I'm not afraid," Connor said quietly, staring Barrington down.

"Ahem," Lester interjected. "This display of male dominance seeking is simply fascinating, but obviously no one here is going to be testing this drug. Our assurance rates are already too high."

Abby's mobile hummed and she glanced at it. "I have to take this," she said, rising to leave.

"Well, that would seem to be our cue to adjourn," Lester said. "Let's all try to play nice, shall we? I'm sure we all have plenty of work to keep us occupied and out of one another's hair." He glanced toward Barrington and Connor, who were still looking at each other with undisguised dislike. "Dr. Barrington, perhaps you could fill me in on exactly what still needs to be done to contain this situation." Lester directed his gaze to Connor, giving his head a slight shake to indicate the young man should skive it.

"Abby," Connor hurried to catch up with his friend and Lester and Barrington headed off in the opposite direction. "I'm sorry about that. I just-"

"I don't have time to talk about this, Connor," she cut him off. "I have someplace I have to go right now." She gave her friend a worried look. "Just … stay out of Barrington's way, okay? He's trying to get under your skin. It's how he controls people." She glanced down at the mobile in her hand, which was buzzing again. "I really do have to go. Talk to you later?"

She broke away from him and headed quickly for the exit, unsure whether she was disappointed or relieved not to have time to explain herself to Connor again.


	9. Chapter 9

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

Connor studied the large sheet of paper laid out on the table in Cutter's old lab. It was covered with markings, Connor's hand-drawn copy of the strange symbols carved into the outside of the artifact that Cutter had taken from Helen before his ex-wife shot him. With his mentor gone, Connor felt driven to live up to the confidence Cutter had shown in him when he told Connor, with his dying breaths, that it was up to him to carry on. He hoped that diagramming the artifact would help him discern some pattern that would reveal its secret purpose. So far, the object had remained as enigmatic as ever.

Connor was so intent on his task that he didn't hear Barrington come into the lab until the scientist spoke.

"Mr. Temple."

As casually as possible, Connor flipped over the schematic before turning to face Barrington. His visitor held a device in one hand, which Connor immediately recognized as the micro-spectroscope he had invented for Abby. "Something I can help you with?" he asked coolly.

"I gather you are what passes for tech support around here," Barrington said. "This machine doesn't appear to be working properly." He held up the spectroscope.

"Where did you get that?" Connor asked.

"From Abigail. She seemed to think it might be helpful to me in my work, and since she had no use for it herself, she turned it over to me. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to come with a user's manual, and she's not around at the moment to give me a lesson."

Connor reached out and took the instrument from the scientist. He pressed a small, recessed button on its side, studied the results of his action on the miniature screen for a moment, then flipped the device over and opened the back panel of the casing. Fishing a tiny screwdriver from his shirt pocket, Connor made a few tiny adjustments to the complex circuitry inside, slid the back cover shut and handed it back to Barrington. "There. Just push the on button and it should give you whatever you need."

"Thanks," Barrington said without sincerity. As he turned to walk out, a low comment from Connor stopped him in his tracks.

"I want you to stay away from Abby."

Barrington turned back to Connor. "I suspect that will be a bit difficult, since we share a very small lab."

"We don't need you here. Abby doesn't need you."

Barrington smirked. "My dear boy, you don't have the faintest notion of what Abigail needs."

"I'm warning you-"

The scientist laughed out loud. "Are you marking your turf, little man? Surely you don't imagine you'd ever have a chance with a woman like Abigail Maitland."

"This isn't about me. It's about _Abby_." Connor spoke with quiet intensity. "I know you hurt her before. I won't let that happen again."

Barrington's face darkened. "My relationship with Abigail – past, present and future – is not your concern." He glared at Connor through narrowed eyes. "I wonder how she would feel if she knew you were playing the knight in shining armor for her?" Connor's suddenly averted eyes told Barrington he'd scored a direct hit. "Abigail is quite capable of taking care of herself and making her own decisions." His lips curled into a derisive smile. "And if she ever is in need of a hero … I think we both know she won't look here first."

Abby parked the Mini in as visible a spot as she could find and got out cautiously. This wasn't exactly a part of town she frequented, and the late afternoon sun slanting over the roofs of the nearby council estates were an uncomfortable reminder that nightfall was coming on. Abby wasn't proud of the deep-seated societal prejudices that prompted her unease – but she also knew Brixton was no place for a woman to be found alone at night.

The road was largely deserted; most of the shops had already closed, and the few tired-looking residents standing at the bus stop or loitering in doorways didn't look like the type to offer a stranger a helping hand. The revitalization movement Abby had heard so much about clearly hadn't reached this part of Lambeth Borough yet. Abby glanced at her watch and checked her mobile to see if she'd missed a text. Nothing. As minutes ticked by, she began to feel very exposed and vulnerable. It would be clear to anyone that she didn't belong here. Finally, just as she'd nearly made up her mind to leave, she spotted a slender figure emerging from the shadows of a market stall. The girl looked quickly in every direction, then hurried over to Abby. Without saying anything, she tugged open the passenger side of the Mini and climbed in. Startled, Abby got in the driver's side.

"We need to go somewhere else," Linda said. She ducked her head below the dash. "I don't want anybody to see me with you."

"Where?" Abby said, starting the car.

"Just drive. I'll tell you where to go."

Linda directed Abby down several increasingly desperate looking streets and finally pointed to a narrow alleyway between two vacant shops.

"You want me to drive down there?" Abby said, uneasy.

"Yes. We won't be seen from the street."

Abby hesitated. "Linda, what's all this about?"

The girl gave Abby an irritated look. "Look, we need to do this my way, or I'm outta here."

"Fine." Abby turned down the alleyway and drove slowly a few dozen yards until Linda signaled her to stop. Wedged between the buildings, the alley was dark and strewn with trash – and Abby noted the far end was blocked with a chain link fence and several large dumpsters. There was no getting out that way. Abby had been in enough dangerous situations to feel very, very uncomfortable with the lack of escape options here.

"Look, Linda. This isn't exactly my idea of a fun night out, so you'd better tell me what's going on right now." Abby's growing anxiety made her tone sharper than she intended.

"Gerry's dead."

Abby was shocked. "I'm sorry," she stammered. "What happened?"

Linda shrugged miserably. "I dunno. They never would let me see him, or tell me how he died. Yesterday when I went back to the hospital, they just said he was dead and told me to clear off."

"Is it possible they were lying to you?"

"About him being dead? No. This woman from council services who I've had some dealings with made some calls and found out they'd released his body to the east morgue. I took the Tube yesterday and saw him laid out there. Had to tell them we were married so they'd let me in." Her lip trembled. "It warn't really a lie. We felt like we was married. We were all each other had, you know?"

"I'm truly sorry, Linda."

"That's not why I called you down here," the girl said. "I was wonderin' … were what I gave you any use?"

"Yes. Thanks to you, we were finally able to discover what's in Gob that makes it so dangerous."

"I'm glad." Even though they were entirely alone in the car, Linda lowered her voice and leaned in closer to Abby. "I've been doing a bit of investigatin' myself."

"What do you mean?"

"I've been asking around, trying to figure out where exactly that squat party was and who was the bloke who brought us there."

Abby frowned. "That could be dangerous, Linda. I appreciate you wanting to help –"

"I'm not doing it for you, or the Bozzers or thems at the hospital," Linda snapped. "I'm doin' it for Gerry. He were a good man, in his way. He didn't deserve to go the way he did."

"I know, and I promise we will find out who's responsible. I just don't want to see you get into any trouble – and neither would Gerry."

The girl turned her face to the window and stared at the sooty bricks of the alley wall. "It don't matter what happens to me, now Gerry's gone," she said softly. She turned back to Abby and gave her a sad smile. "Don't you worry about me, miss. I've been taking care of myself since I was 13. And anyway, I got what I was looking for – part of it, at least." She pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to Abby.

"Callum Lewis," Abby read.

"That's 'im. That's the one who met up with Gerry at the club and took us to the squat. He stays sometimes with some Quiff up at Loughborough Estate. I figure if you get ahold of him, he'll be able to lead you to who's supplyin' him."

"This is amazing," Abby exclaimed. "Thank you for this, Linda. I know you put yourself out there to get this information. It won't be wasted, I can assure you."

Linda shrugged. "I just hope if you do find out who's behind this, you make him pay for what he did."

Abby nodded. "What will you do now? Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Nah. I'll be leavin' town in a couple of days. Got an old mate who lives in Manchester and said I could stay with him for a while. Afraid things might get a bit hot for me here now."

"I think that's a good idea. I hope you'll be careful, Linda."

"Yeah." Linda looked at Abby seriously. "I expect I won't be seeing you again, Abby. I want to thank you for … well, just for being nice, mostly. I haven't got that much the last few years."

"That's a shame, because you deserve to be treated well. I hope you know that."

The girl didn't answer, but carefully opened the door and squeezed out into the alleyway. "I'll be leaving you here," she said. "I know a short way back to where I'm staying. You'd best be getting back to your own part of town. It's getting dark."

"I don't like to leave you here. It isn't safe."

"Not safe for you," the girl answered. "But these are my streets. I know how to take care of myself." She closed the car door and watched as Abby backed down the alley. As Abby turned the car back onto the main thoroughfare, she glimpsed Linda give her a small wave. Then she disappeared into the darkness.


	10. Chapter 10

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin. Despite its carefully temperature-controlled climate, the air in the paleo-botany lab had a distinct chill to it. The frost was emanating from Abby, who had taken great pains all morning to keep her back to Dr. Barrington while they worked. After yet another terse reply to one of his questions, Barrington sighed.

"I get the distinct feeling you're angry with me."

"D'ya think?" Abby used a small pestle to punch at grains of a chemical salt in a shallow mortar, then fiercely ground them into powder – much the same thing she wanted to do to Michael Barrington.

"And this is about what happened in yesterday's staff meeting, I take it?"

Abby stopped grinding and faced him. "How dare you humiliate me in front of my colleagues – my friends!" It was all she could do to keep from chucking the pestle at his head. "And then trying to bait Connor into volunteering to be experimented on? I think you must have lost your mind."

"I suppose I did in a way." Barrington said. "You see, I saw you talking to Temple before the meeting, and I was … jealous."

Abby stared at him, trying to discern if he was mocking her. But his face was serious, and a little sad. She shook her head. "Connor and I don't have … that kind … of relationship," she said finally.

"I'm glad."

"And you and I don't have that kind of relationship either, in case you'd forgotten," Abby snapped.

Barrington nodded glumly. "I know, and I accept that I squandered any chance I might have had with you a long time ago. I've regretted it every minute since you walked out of my life."

Abby felt a tightening in her chest as she floundered for some way to respond. But Barrington continued on. "I'd never expect you to want to be with me in that way again," he said quietly, "but there is something I want to ask you."

"What?"

"When this is all over, and I go back to my own work … I want you to come with me."

"Are you serious?" Abby didn't know what she had expected, but it wasn't this.

"Completely," he said. "I've left the university and have my own lab now. I'm doing research – really important work – on potential uses for bio-chemical products in treating neurological disorders. I feel I'm close to a real break-through, and I want you there to share it with me."

"Why me?"

"Because you have one of the most brilliant, intuitive minds I've ever encountered," he said. "And because your talents are being wasted here. Surely you can see that."

Abby bristled. "I happen to think the work I do at the ARC is very important," she said.

"Unique, perhaps. Exciting. But important?" Barrington shook his head impatiently. "You know the role you play here could be filled by any second year paleontology student. You should be doing real science. I'm giving you that chance."

"Michael, I can't just –"

"Don't answer me yet," he interrupted. "Give it some thought. I think you'll realize that I'm right. You belong where your talents are most needed, where you can really help people. And if, after thinking it through, you decided you'd rather spend your time chasing prehistoric creatures through shiny holes for minimum pay, I'll accept that." He held her gaze for a moment, then abruptly broke away. "We can talk about this more tomorrow. In the meantime, I'll leave you alone to consider your options." He turned and strode from the lab, leaving Abby stunned and, she realized to her surprise, unsure about what her answer would be.

An extraordinary odor assaulted Abby's nostrils as she entered the staff lounge. "My God, Connor! What died in here?"

He looked up from the pot he was stirring on the stove in the kitchenette. "Curry!" he grinned. "Thought it would make a change from pizza."

"Seriously?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You know what spicy food does to your digestion."

"Naw, I've outgrown that," he laughed. "Never let it be said that I don't have a taste for adventure!"

Abby noticed that he appeared to have taken special care with his appearance this evening. He was dressed in his typical layered look: well-fitting grey trousers, a black t-shirt and chocolate-colored jacket that brought out the deep brown of his eyes. His hair was neatly styled and he was freshly shaved. He looked good.

Abby suddenly felt a little self-conscious about her own attire. She hadn't bothered to change out of her jeans and casual tee after finishing in the lab an hour ago, though she had grabbed a quick shower. But Connor was smiling broadly at her, and she knew he thought she looked fine no matter what she was wearing.

"So with curry on the menu, can I assume we'll be watching some Bollywood extravaganza?" Abby joked, wandering into the nook where a cluster of easy chairs and a sofa faced a large flat-screen television on the wall.

"Nope. Even better." Connor picked up a remote from the countertop next to the stove and pointed it in the direction of the screen. An image appeared of two impossibly attractive actors snogging in the rain behind a title graphic.

"The Notebook?" Abby exclaimed. "No way. This is one of the biggest chick flicks of all time."

"Correction. _Numero uno_ chick flick of all time. I Googled it."

Abby laughed. "I can't believe you wasted your vid pic on this. This is going to be like two hours of having spikes driven under your fingernails."

"I expect it will, yeah. That's why I brought this." He reached into a bag on the counter and pulled out a bottle of wine. "Care to pour?"

Abby joined him in the kitchenette and started opening cupboards and drawers in search of a bottle opener. "Huh. First time in your life you didn't buy the cheap kind with the screw-off cap. Aha!" She pulled a corkscrew out of a drawer triumphantly and started working on the cork. "Really, though, what is all this?" she said, elbowing him playfully. "Exotic menu, sappy movie, and wine? Bit out of character for our usual movie nights."

"I figured you could use a bit of special pampering, that's all," he answered, a little shyly. "I know you've been under a lot of stress, trying to figure out this Gob thing. And working with Barrington can't help the situation."

The cork came out of the bottle with a pop; Abby poured two glasses and handed one to Connor. "Yeah, and he really threw me for a loop this morning."

"What now?"

Abby turned back to the wine bottle and busied herself with trying to fit the cork back in. "He, um … asked me to come work with him in his lab, once we've got this situation sorted."

"What cheese! I hope you told him to sod off."

Abby was quiet. Connor put a hand on her arm and gently pulled her round to face him. "Abby? You didn't accept his offer, did you?"

"Of course not," Abby answered quickly, noting relief flood his face. "I didn't say yes … but I didn't say no, either. He asked me to take a day to think before I gave him my answer."

"What's there to think about? You can't seriously think of leaving the ARC, Abby. We need you here."

Abby sighed. "This is an incredible opportunity, Connor. And I think if we've learned anything over the last three years, it's that any one of us is expendable. Stephen, Cutter, Jenny … they're all gone, and the ARC keeps running like clockwork."

"That's not true. Losing them has made every day harder — and our mission that much more important," Connor retorted. "And if you were go to, too … I don't know how I — how _we_— could carry on."

"You'd be fine, Connor," Abby said. "I have complete faith in you, just like Cutter did. And anyway, it's not like I've put in my notice. I'm still thinking about it. But right now I just want to turn off my brain and do something really wild and crazy." She peered into the roiling orange goo in the pot. "Hand me a spoon."

Just then Barrington appeared at the door. "Ah, Abigail, there you are! I've been trying to track you down for an hour."

"The lady's off the clock, mate," Connor said testily. "Whatever you want can wait until tomorrow."

"Actually, it can't. Abigail, I've just had a call from Geoffrey Fitzwilliam. You recognize the name?"

"Of course!" She looked at Connor. "He knows more than anybody on earth about the neurotoxic effects of plant species."

Barrington nodded. "I've been trying to reach him since I accepted this assignment, but was told he was out of the country. Then this afternoon I get a call from him, saying he's in town. I filled him in on what we're dealing with, and he agreed to see us."

"Great," Connor said. "So set up an appointment and go see the guy. Abby's not your social secretary."

"No, she's my partner in a scientific investigation that I believe your employer deems rather important," Barrington said curtly. "And unfortunately, Dr. Fitzwilliam is only in town overnight; he leaves for a six-month field study in Malaysia in the morning."

Connor grunted. "Sure. Give us a break, Barrington."

"Connor, chill," Abby said. "This is actually good news. Dr. Fitzwilliam could be really helpful."

"Come on, Abby. You don't really believe that this famous guy just happens to be available the one night you've got plans. Kind of a coincidence, don't you think?"

Abby felt torn. "Why don't you meet with Dr. Fitzwilliam and fill me in later," she said to Barrington.

The scientist shrugged. "Fine. I thought you'd appreciate the opportunity to consult with someone of his stature, who might just have the key insight we're looking for. But since you are otherwise occupied …"

Connor made a disgusted sound. "Oh, very nice," he said. "Make her feel guilty." He looked at Abby. "You should go."

"No, Connor. I said I'd spend the evening with you, and I intend to keep that commitment."

"Please don't do me any favors," he answered.

"You know I didn't mean it like that."

Barrington cleared his throat. "I have a car waiting. Should I give Fitzwilliam your regrets?"

Abby pursed her lips. "How long will this take?"

"I don't know. An hour, maybe. Two at the most." Barrington looked pointedly at his watch.

"That's great! I'll just take this meeting with Fitzwilliam and be back here by 10. We can still have our vid. Is that okay, Connor?"

The young man shrugged. "Fine. Whatever. I'll just hang out here until you get back."

"Thank you!" She impulsively gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I can't believe I'm going to be talking to Geoffrey Fitzwilliam!" She turned to Barrington. "I'll just run to the locker room and change into something a little more appropriate and meet you outside in 10 minutes."

The two men watched her dash off.

"Abigail seems very excited about this opportunity," Barrington said.

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Barrington. Abby might be blinkered when it comes to you, but I'm not."

"And just what is it that you believe I'm doing, Mr. Temple?"

"You want to get Abigail off to yourself so you can work on convincing her to go away with you."

Barrington strolled casually over to the kitchenette and cast a critical eye into the bubbling pot. "So she told you about that, did she?" He picked up a wooden spoon and lifted up a glob of curry, then let it drop back with a plop. "And now you accuse me of manipulating her to get what I want. I call that some cheek."

"What do you mean?"

Barrington gestured to the curry and bottle of wine. "What do you call all this? It looks to me like you're trying to stage a certain scene yourself. At least I'm not planning to get Abigail drunk to get what I want."

Connor's jaw twitched as he fought to control his fury. "Don't you insinuate that I'm trying to take advantage of Abby. That's your M.O. I only want what's best for her. I want her to be happy."

"Surely if that were the case, you'd urge her to accept my offer of employment. By my side she'd enjoy every professional opportunity. She'd have the career she always dreamed of and all the credit she deserves." He started for the door. "Perhaps you can spend the next couple of hours thinking about what really is best for Abigail," he called back over his shoulder. "I'm sure she values your opinion very highly."


	11. Chapter 11

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin. During the half-hour drive to the Dorchester, where Fitzwilliam was staying, Abby occupied herself with organizing her notes and scribbling questions on a legal pad to ask the eminent scientist. Barrington was strangely subdued, and it occurred to Abby that it might not have been wise to leave him and Connor alone back at the ARC. But Barrington didn't say anything about a confrontation, so Abby decided to believe he was just collecting his own thoughts ahead of the meeting.

Abby wasn't the kind to be star-struck, but even she was impressed as they pulled up to the Dorchester. The City's toniest hotel, located in the heart of Mayfair, the Dorchester played host to dignitaries, pop stars and celebrities of every ilk. The uniformed doorman tipped his hat to them as they entered the magnificent lobby. Abby was glad she'd taken the time to change into the smartest outfit she could cobble together from the assorted pieces she kept in her locker at the ARC. But in a short pleated skirt, kicky boots and a close-fitting leather jacket, Abby knew she looked more like a college student than a serious scientist. She noticed the blue rinsers in the lobby giving her sidelong glances as they passed, and she was glad for once that Barrington was beside her. His couture was, as always, impeccable. Judging from the raised eyesbrows, Abby figured the upper-crusties had her pegged for a tart that Barrington was bringing home for a tumble.

Barrington left her standing on the gleaming marble tiles while he had a word with the concierge. He returned a moment later and led her to a private lift, where a uniformed attendant waited to take them up.

"Good evening, Dr. Barrington," the man said, bowing slightly as they entered the lift.

"They know you by name?" Abby whispered as the doors swished silently closed.

"Penthouse," Barrington directed the attendant crisply, then addressed Abby. "Of course. This is hardly the first time I've ever been to the Dorchester. You'll become accustomed to this sort of lifestyle when you join my team."

The lift doors whisked open directly into the foyer of the penthouse suite. Stepping out into the room, Abby was stunned by its sophisticated opulence. A fire was flickering in a sleek, modern fireplace set into a hearth of creamy marble. One whole wall of the great room was windows, through which the million twinkling lights of the London skyline could be viewed. A table in the middle of the room was illuminated by candle light and a sterling silver bucket held a bottle Krug Clos du Mesnil. Abby noticed immediately that the table was set for two.

"Where's Dr. Fitzwilliam," she demanded.

Barrington looked unconcerned. "Ah. That was a bit of a ruse, I'm afraid. This is my suite."

"You've got to be kidding me," Abby said. "Shall I strip down now, or wait until after the champagne?" She marched back to the lift doors and began searching for a button to summon it.

"Abigail, hear me out," Barrington said. "I promise you, I didn't bring you here to seduce you. At least, not into bed."

"Fancy doing it on the floor, then? Where's the bear skin rug?" Abby was having no luck finding the lift button. "How the hell do you get out of here?"

"I'll tell you as soon as you calm down."

"Calm down? You got me here under false pretenses, are holding me practically a prisoner." A sudden thought struck her. "My God, Connor was right about you!"

Barrington's voice was soothing. "Only about my ulterior motives for bringing you here," he said. "I knew I'd have to get you alone, away from that boy and the others, to get you to see reason about my job offer."

"Well, if you think I'm setting one foot in your lab or anywhere else with you now, you're going to be disappointed, sunshine."

Barrington gestured to a chair at the table. "Why don't you sit down, Abigail. You'll get to leave much sooner if you simply hear me out."

"I'm not in the mood to do you any favors, Michael," She reached into her jacket pocket. "Damn it," she said, coming up empty. "I was in such a hurry to get ready for this mythical meeting that I left my mobile." She gazed around the room. "Where the phone?"

Barrington sat down at the table himself and watched her tour the suite looking for the room phone. A moment later she was back at the table. "How can a hotel room not have a phone?"

He shrugged and gestured toward the other chair.

"Fine." She sat down opposite him and crossed her arms defiantly. "Say what you have to say, then let me leave."

"Thank you." He reached into the champagne bucket and retrieved the bottle, pouring himself a glass. Abby turned her own flute upside down on the table, and he chuckled.

"You think this is funny?"

"Actually, I do. That is, I think you're funny. I always have."

"Okay. Is that it? Can I go now?"

Barrington shook his head ruefully. "You really have no idea how marvelous you are, do you? So brilliant. Such fire. Like a diamond."

"Give me a break."

"With all the sharp edges of that gemstone, too," he continued blithely. "I asked you here, Abigail, so we could talk seriously about your future. If you don't want to work with me, at least let me find you some other research position."

"I already have a job, Michael."

"One that's going to get you killed!" His voice was sharp. "You are too valuable to end up a bloody chunk of meat in some creature's gullet."

"I appreciate your confidence in my ability to take care of myself," she said dryly. "I've done pretty well so far."

"Come now, Abigail. You know it's a numbers game. If you keep putting yourself on the line, eventually your number is going to come up."

"Why do you even care?"

The scientist looked stricken. "Why do I care? How can you even ask me that?" He stood and ran a hand over his face. He walked to the bank of windows and stared out into the darkness.

"Michael, what's going on?"

He laughed hollowly. "I lied."

"Yes, we've established that."

"I don't mean about Fitzwilliam. Well, that too, of course. And a lot of other things, I suppose." He leaned his forehead against the glass. "But mostly about what I said earlier today. About not trying to win you back."

Abby sat stock still, her heart pounding as he continued to speak softly.

"The truth is, I wasn't asked by the Minister to consult in this case. I went to him and asked to be assigned. I'd found out where you were, you see. And I had to see you again, try to get back what I'd lost. What I'd thrown away."

"I don't know what to say, Michael."

He crossed to her and crouched next to her chair, looking up at her pleadingly. "Say it's not too late. Say you still have some feeling left for me."

Confusion washed over Abby as he gently took her face in his hands, then leaned in and kissed her tenderly. She was too stunned to react at first, but as his lips moved from her lips to her cheek, then down the nape of her neck, her body began to respond. She sighed as his hands moved over her, urging her off the chair. He rose with her, pulling her against him. She felt her arms curve around his waist, up his back as she pressed herself to him. His mouth returned to hers and he kissed her deeply, causing waves of heat to course through her. She felt his hand slip between her thighs and a moan escaped her lips as he caressed her. It was dizzying, this storm of sensation she had almost forgotten. He was stroking her now, whispering ardently. "You're so beautiful," he murmured against her neck. "God, I want you so much."

She stiffened at his words and abruptly pushed him away. "I can't do this, Michael."

He reached for her again. "You want this as much as I do. I felt it."

Abby stepped back, out of his tantalizing reach. "I don't know what I want. I'm confused."

"Let me help you make up your mind."

"No, Michael. I make my own decisions, and only when I have a clear mind."

"I know you are a passionate woman, Abigail. Trust that passion."

Abby shook her head and nervously tugged at her disheveled clothing. "This isn't going to happen, Michael. I want you to take me back to the ARC. Now."

"Very well," he said, a cold edge creeping into his voice. "You always were stubborn."

"And you always were demanding."

The trip back to the ARC was silent and awkward. Abby sat as far from Barrington as she could in the back seat of the car. She stared out the window, trying to push away the remembrance of what had just happened. She needed to compose herself before she could face Connor.

Connor. The thought of him cause a little flicker of guilt in her belly. She didn't know why; it wasn't like she and Connor were involved. What she had done with Michael had nothing to do with her relationship with her best pal. So why did she feel so sick at the thought that he might find out?

Arriving back at the ARC, they were met by a flurry of activity. As the driver pulled into the lot, Becker ran up to them. "Where the hell have you been?" he asked as they stepped out of the car. "I've been trying to reach you."

"What's going on?" Abby asked.

"Trouble," Becker replied tensely. He looked hard at Abby. "It's Connor."

"What?" Abby felt a sudden stab of fear.

Becker looked bewildered and sick. He pointed toward the ARC and shook his head. "He's up there. On the roof."


	12. Chapter 12

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

Abby raced up several flights of stairs to the top floor of the ARC building, just behind Becker who had sprinted ahead of her. Pushing open the door to the roof, Abby was struck still with terror to see Connor balanced on the very lip of the roof, some 30 meters above the hard pavement of the carpark below. His arms were spread wide and he was staring into the sky, mumbling to himself. Danny, Becker and several security officers stood about 12 feet away, poised to make a dash toward him should the opportunity arise. But whenever they edged toward him, Connor looked at them with wild eyes and waved them off. His gestures threatened every second to offset the precarious balance he maintained on the ledge.

"Connor!" The word left Abby's lips before she could stop it. At the sound, Connor reeled in her direction, nearly toppling over the edge.

"Abby!" he shouted, looking toward her … but Abby sensed he wasn't really seeing her. "Can you believe it? It's so amazing!"

"What? What are you seeing, Connor?" Abby said with forced calm. She took a step toward him.

"Everything! EVERYTHING!" He did a little hop and raised his arms over his head, stretching his hands as if trying to clutch the stars.

"Connor, please come here to me," Abby pleaded. "I want you to come and tell me all about what you're seeing."

He laughed loudly and shook his head. "No, can't do that. I can only see it from here."

"What is it?"

"The mountain. And a waterfall. So beautiful." His fingers traced a pattern in the air, as though he were following the drop of water over a precipice. "Hey, Abby – wanna know a secret?"

"Yes, yes. Come tell me your secret, Connor."

"Shhhh," he giggled, placing a finger in front of his lips. "Don't tell anyone."

"I won't, Connor. I promise I won't. But you need to come here to tell me, or somebody might hear you."

"Oh, I guess it doesn't matter; they'll find out soon enough anyway." He grinned broadly. "I can fly!" He swung his arms upward and Abby was sure he was about to jump. She felt a little scream rising in her throat.

"What makes you think you can fly, Connor?"

He looked puzzled a moment, then flapped his arms. "My wings," he said. "I'm going to fly to that mountain, Abby. I'm going to see what's up there." He made a sudden move, and Abby cried out.

"No, Connor! Wait!"

He stopped in mid-stride, one foot hanging over the void. "What do you want, Abby? I need to go, don't you see?"

Abby could barely restrain herself from rushing toward him, but she knew she couldn't reach him in time. "Yes, Connor," she said. "I know you have to go. But … I want you to take me with you, yeah?"

"You want to go with me?"

"Yes. Please, Connor. Don't leave me alone here."

"You really want to be with me?"

"More than anything, Connor. Please, please don't go without me."

"Oh, Abby," Connor said dreamily. "I want you with me, too. We can see it together."

Abby took one step closer to Connor and extended her arm. "Take my hand, Connor, and we'll go, okay?"

He bent toward her, began to reach out — then stopped abruptly. A look of terror broke over his face. "You're not Abby!" he screamed. "What are you? What have you done with her?" He reeled back, flailing his arms as he tumbled over the edge. At the same moment, Danny lunged forward and grabbed him by the leg, dragging him back over the edge and onto the rooftop. As he hit the hard surface, Connor began to thrash wildly.

"He's convulsing!" Abby raced to him. Becker and Danny were holding him down, trying to quiet his flailing. "Oh my God!" she cried. "Connor!"

Suddenly Barrington appeared behind her. "Let me in," he said, pushing past the security guards to kneel beside Connor. He held a syringe in his hand and plunged it into Connor's thigh. Almost instantly the young man's body relaxed. He was unconscious … but breathing.

"Let's get him down to the infirmary," Becker said, picking him up under the shoulders while Danny grabbed his legs.

"What did you do?" Abby said to Barrington.

"It's the antidote we've been formulating," he answered.

"But we had no idea whether that would work," Abby said. "You could have killed him!"

"I know, but there didn't seem to be any other options," Barrington said. "You saw him; he was on the point of cardio-respiratory collapse. At least we know now that the antidote works."

"You're right," Abby conceded. She was trembling all over. "Thank you. I-I need to go to Connor."

"Of course. We'll talk later." He nodded. "I really hope he's okay."

"Me, too," she said, dashing for the stairs.

The ARC's small infirmary wasn't designed for a crowd, but no one seemed to mind the crush. Connor lay on a hospital gurney, a bag of saline hanging over him dripping vital fluids into his still form. Becker and Danny leaned against the back wall, observing their friend for any sign of recovery, while Sarah stood behind Abby, who had pulled a chair up close beside the bed. Even Lester had come in, despite the late hour – one more little evidence, Abby thought, that the stuffy bureaucrat really did have a soft spot for his team. The only person absent was their newest colleague, Dr. Barrington. But why should he be here? He didn't care about Connor. No, that wasn't true, Abby corrected herself. It was Barrington who had shown up with the antidote, untested though it was, in the nick of time. If he hadn't … Abby gazed down at Connor's pale features and swallowed hard.

The ARC's medic, Lt. Marquardt, conducted a physical assessment of Connor's condition with brisk, military efficiency. He pulled up the patient's eyelids, briefly shining a small penlight into them, and frowned at what he saw. He used a tiny hammer to tap the young man's limbs, the bottoms of his bare feet, the inside of his wrists. As far as Abby could see, there was no response. Connor seemed to be deeply unconscious, possibly even comatose.

"Well, what's his status," Lester said gruffly.

The physician's face was impassive. "He's unresponsive at the moment, though whether that's from the effect of the original toxin or whatever was given him to counteract it, I couldn't say."

Lester wasn't satisfied. "All right then, what's being done to bring him out of this?"

"As you can see, he's getting fluids and being monitored closely. His heart rate and blood pressure seem to be coming down, but there's no way to tell what, if any, damage was done to vital systems. He's got so many unknown substances on board already that I don't dare give him anything more. We just have to wait until whatever he's got churning through his bloodstream clears his system."

"And how long will that take?" Lester was nothing if not persistent.

"I'd say a few hours at least. I don't expect we'll see much change in his condition before morning."

Lester folded his arms and appeared deep in thought a moment. "All right, everybody," he said at last. "You heard the man. There's no use standing around here. I want everyone to go home and get a few hours sleep. We'll know more in the morning."

While the others shuffled out reluctantly, Abby didn't move. "That includes you, Miss Maitland," Lester ordered.

"I'm not leaving him."

"There's nothing you can do for him," Lester prodded. "And we'll need you fresh in the morning to figure out what the hell happened."

"I'm. Not. Going." Abby's quiet voice held a finality that daunted even Lester.

"Very well, then, if you insist." His face softened slightly. "I suppose he'll want a friend here when he wakes up."

"If he wakes up," Abby murmured as her boss followed the others out of the infirmary.


	13. Chapter 13

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin. Abby had no idea what time she'd dozed off, but she woke to find her head resting on the gurney beside Connor's legs. It was their restless movement that had roused her. She looked up to see Connor leaning on his elbows, blinking blearily. "What happened?" he asked groggily. "Did I sleep through the alarm?"

Abby leapt to her feet and threw her arms around his neck. "Connor! Thank God!" She pulled back and looked into his startled features, her own face suffused with joy and relief. Then her eyes narrowed with outrage. She grabbed the rumpled collar of his jacket and pushed him roughly back down on the gurney. "You IDIOT!"

Connor was fully awake now, and very, very confused. "What did I do?" He hauled himself upright again and looked around the room. "How did I get here? Abby, what's going on?"

"You took some Gob and almost ended up dead," she hissed. "What kind of stupid stunt do you think you were playing?"

"Huh?" Connor looked genuinely astonished. " I'm not stupid enough to take that stuff. You know my body is a temple."

She didn't smile at the lame pun. "There's no use lying about it, Connor."

"Abby, I'm telling you I didn't take anything. The last thing I remember was sitting down with a bowl of curry and a glass of wine to wait for you to get back so we could watch the film."

"So I suppose it was the curry that did this to you."

"Well, I did make it with extra turmeric."

"This isn't funny, Connor." Suddenly the tears that had threatened all night came in a rush. She tried unsuccessfully to stifle a sob and sank back down in the chair.

Connor looked alarmed. "Aw, Abby, please don't cry," he pleaded, fumbling for a tissue from the box beside the bed. "I don't know what happened, but I'm fine now. See"? He put his hands on either side of his body and bounced up and down. "Good as new."

"You didn't see yourself, Connor. I never want to see you like that again."

Connor looked uncomfortable. "What did I do? Shivvy off my clothes and run naked through the carpark?"

Despite herself, Abby had to smile at the picture. But it was fleeting. "You weren't yourself. You were … crazy."

The glass door to the infirmary slid open and Becker and Lester walked in, looking grim.

"I see you've rejoined us," Lester said, a hint of relief in his voice.

"Um, yeah," Connor said, still digesting what Abby had just told him. "I guess I was pretty out of it, huh."

"That's putting it mildly." Lester's mouth was set in a hard line. "I'm disappointed in you, Mr. Temple. You know the ARC has a zero tolerance policy with respect to controlled substances. And what you took was – or at least _should_ have been – very tightly controlled indeed."

Connor sank back into the pillow, shaking his head. "So you all think I deliberately took something that I know has been laying people out dead all over London?"

"I wouldn't have believed it," Becker said, "except for this." He held up a small vial containing a brownish powder residue.

"What's that?"

"This vial contains traces of the synthetic Gob that Abby and Barrington have been using in the lab," the security chief said.

Connor shrugged. "If you say so. I've never seen it before in me life."

"Really?" Lester interjected. "Then how is it that it was found in your locker this morning?"

Connor appeared shocked - and panicked. "What were you doing going through my locker?" He looked from one face to the next. "I've no idea how it got there, I swear I don't."

"There will of course be a full investigation," Lester answered, "at which time you will be given every opportunity to make your case. In the meantime, I have no choice but to put you on administrative leave."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that as soon as you're on your feet, you'll surrender your scan card, government-issued mobile and anything else pertaining to the ARC. And then you'll take some time off. I'm sure the rest will do you a great deal of good."

Connor looked at Becker pleadingly. "Becker, come on. You know I wouldn't do this."

The security chief shrugged uncomfortably and looked at his shoes.

"Abby?"

Like Becker, Abby found it impossible to meet Connor's wounded, puppy gaze. "You really, really scared us last night, Connor," she said. "I'm not saying you necessarily took the drug on purpose. Maybe it was some kind of accident, or you thought it was something else …"

Connor shook his head and took a deep breath. "Right." He swung his legs over the side of the gurney. "I'll just go clear out my locker then." He got to his feet, wobbling a bit. Abby jumped up and put an arm around his waist to support him, but he brushed her off. "Thanks, I can shift fine for me self." He dug into the front pocket of his trousers and pulled out his scan card and mobile, then fumbled to unfasten the compass he kept strapped to his wrist. He threw the lot onto the gurney and shuffled out. Abby followed him.

"I told you, I don't need your help," Connor grumbled as Abby joined him at the lift. He punched the down arrow and the doors slid open. Abby was beside him as he stepped inside. "Just leave me alone," he said.

"Make me." Abby folded her arms and gave him a long look. "You know I can kick your ass when you're in _good_ shape; you don't want to take me on now."

"Suit yourself."

He pressed the button for the first floor, where the staff locker room was, and the two rode down in silence. Downstairs, Connor walked as briskly as his weakened state would permit him, but Abby had no difficulty staying with him. As they reached the locker room, Connor gave her an exasperated look.

"What do you want, Abby?"

"Just to make sure you're okay."

"Why do you even care?"

It was the same question she'd asked Barrington the night before, and Abby was struck silent for a moment.

"You're my best friend," she said finally. "I'm worried about you … and I hate that you're angry with me."

Connor looked at her, his soft brown eyes sad. "I can understand Lester; he doesn't trust anybody. And it's Becker's job to be suspicious. But you know me better than anybody in the world. I never, ever thought you wouldn't believe me. "

"I want to believe you, Connor. Give me a plausible explanation for what happened last night," Abby almost begged.

Connor frowned and looked away. "How about you give me an explanation for why I _would_ have done something so stupid."

"Do you remember what you said to me last night, before I left with Michael?" Abby began carefully. "You said you wanted to be adventurous."

"I was talking about spicy food, Abby, not taking drugs. Blimey."

"Look, I know Michael's baiting you the other day got to you. Maybe you thought you had something to prove. But believe me, you don't have to compete with him."

Connor gave her a hard look. "Compete with him for what?"

"Well, for anything. Who's the cleverest, or has accomplished the most, or…" Abby trailed off, flustered.

"Believe me, Dr. Barrington doesn't have anything I want." The harshness of his tone startled Abby.

"No, of course not."

Abby watched Connor turn to his locker and give the latch a tug. It didn't open, and he rattled it irritably.

"Damn it!"

"What's the matter?"

"I jammed some paper in the latch so I wouldn't have to remember my combination. It keeps the latch from closing completely. But somehow it's gotten locked." He thought a moment, then turned the combination lock left, right, and left again. He pulled the latch, and this time the door swung open with a clatter. He peered into the hole in the latch. "Huh. The wad's gone."

"Probably Becker removed it when he searched your locked this morning. They have security protocols for a reason, Connor. You're supposed to secure your personal property."

"The only things I keep in here are my scooter helmet, some extra clothes, a few comic books and my emergency stash of salt-and-vinegar crisps," Connor grunted. "Who'd want to get into my locker?"

A sudden thought struck him. "Abby! My locker was open. Anybody could have planted that bottle of the drug!"

"Come on, Connor. Who would want to do that to you?"

"There's only one person I can think of. Your very good friend."

"Michael?" Abby was incredulous. "Don't be ridiculous, Connor. What would be the purpose of that?"

Connor cocked his head. "Gee, I dunno, Abby. Unless maybe you had it wrong. Maybe _he's_ competing with _me_." His handsome features took on an unfamiliar hardness. "Or maybe it's because I'm the only one around here who doesn't buy into his concerned humanitarian act."

"Connor, you can't actually be accusing Michael of setting you up. He saved your life last night, for heaven's sakes."

"Oh, yeah? And just how did he do that?"

Abby frowned at his biting tone. "He injected you with the antidote just as you were about to go into cardiac arrest, that's how."

"Huh. I guess it was lucky for me that he just happened to have it handy, then," Connor said darkly. "And lucky for him that I happened to get a dose of the drug somehow. Looks like he got his human test subject after all."

Abby was shocked. "Just what are you implying?"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm saying straight out, Michael Barrington dosed me with that synthetic Gob and then made it look like I took it myself."

"You must still be hallucinating, Connor Temple," Abby exclaimed.

"Think about it, Abby. It makes sense," Connor insisted.

Abby shook her head furiously. "No, it doesn't. I know Michael Barrington, and he would never do such a thing."

Connor's mouth twitched, then bent into an ironic smile. "But I would." He pulled his scooter helmet from the top shelf of his locker and slammed the door shut.

"Where are you going?" Abby asked as Connor strapped on his helmet and made for the door.

"That's really not your concern, Abby," he answered. "After all, we no longer work together. Or live together. In fact, I guess we don't have much of anything together any more." He gave the door a furious shove and stalked out, leaving Abby speechless.


	14. Chapter 14

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin. Abby usually looked forward to weekends as a much-needed opportunity to decompress from what was, by anyone's standards, a very stressful job. But this week Saturday and Sunday had crawled by. For one thing, the urgency of the current case – and their lack of progress in solving it – made Abby anxious. Three more deaths had been reported over the past several days, along with half a dozen additional psychotic breaks. So far the media hadn't picked up on the string of incidents, but it was only a matter of time. Danny and Becker had been scouring the city for the pusher Linda had identified – their only real lead in discovering who was producing Gob. But Callum Lewis, if he even existed, had gone deep underground.

What made Abby most uneasy was not knowing what was going on with Connor. She hadn't heard from him since he'd walked out of the ARC Saturday morning, and since he'd turned in his mobile, she had no way of reaching him. She hated the strain that was between them. If only she could figure a way to believe that he hadn't taken the drug on purpose … and to be honest, she'd never known him to have anything more mind-altering than a white wine spritzer; Connor Temple was about as straight an arrow as she knew. But the alternative, that someone in the ARC had slipped Connor the drug, was equally unthinkable. Certainly Abby couldn't accept Connor's accusation that Barrington was responsible. Michael knew better than anyone how dangerous Gob was. True, her former mentor was fiercely competitive … but he was no killer.

As soon as Abby got in on Monday morning, she sought out Lester in his office.

"Miss Maitland," he said, looking up from his desk as she burst in. "What can I do for you?"

"I was just wondering … how Connor is."

Lester looked surprised. "I have no idea. I haven't seen him since he skulked out of the infirmary."

"Oh. I thought maybe if you came back to your flat last night you might have had a chance to talk with him."

"Actually, I spent the weekend in town. The Minister has requested I remain available until this Gob situation is cleared up." He frowned slightly. "I assumed Mr. Temple was licking his wounds back at your place."

Abby felt panic building inside her. "No, I haven't seen him either. Where can he have gone?"

"Let's not over-react," Lester said, but Abby saw a trace of concern in his eyes. "I'm just he's just tucked up somewhere with a mate."

"Connor doesn't have any mates, not outside work anyway," Abby answered, her voice tight with worry.

The classified nature of their work and the rather erratic hours made it hard for any of them to maintain relationships with outsiders – but Abby sense that Connor had never had a very active social life. Since his best mate Tom had died from a prehistoric parasite after digging into Connor's secret life, Connor had pulled away from even the few pals he'd had as a student. Abby couldn't imagine anyone Connor could have gone to stay with.

"We need to find him!" she exclaimed. "Who knows what the after-effects of the drug might be. He could be wandering the streets, out of his head … or worse."

"Surely if that were the case he would have been picked up by the authorities and we could have been notified," Lester said, but he didn't sound convinced by his own words.

"Lester, how many homeless people do you pass every day that would fit that description?" Abby asked. "Connor could be lying dead in a gutter someplace and people would just step over him."

Lester sighed. "The Chief Superintendent at the Met owes me a favor. I'll ring him up and make some enquiries … get some eyes on the street looking for him."

"Thank you. I'm going to go out looking myself."

"No you're not," Lester said firmly. "We need you here, working on the Gob problem."

"I can't work, not knowing where Connor is."

Lester set his jaw in a firm line. "I'm afraid you're going to have to put that aside and concentrate on the task at hand." His expression softened slightly. "Believe me, I'll make sure everything is done to find Mr. Temple."

In the lab, Abby struggled to remain focused on the spectrographic analysis of Barrington's latest sample of the Gob antidote. Though the substance had stopped Connor's seizure and — as far as they knew — neutralized the effect of the drug, they couldn't be sure which of the several compounds in the antidote was the operative one, or what the safe, effective dosage was. And now that Connor had disappeared, Abby couldn't help worrying that the effect of the antidote had been only temporary. She tried to shut out vivid images of him wild-eyed and raving like he had been on the roof. She thought of Gerry and the fear that Connor might end up like him made a tight ball of horror in her gut.

Barrington had come in late. Abby didn't say anything to him as he put on his lab coat and set to work on his own tests. After an hour of silence, he finally approached her.

"I think we need to talk about this."

"What?" Abby looked up at him, bewildered.

"About what happened … at the Dorchester. I know that's why you're upset."

Abby gave him a disbelieving look. "Believe me, Michael, you are the last thing on my mind right now."

The scientist looked stung. "I see. Then what's with the silent treatment?"

"Connor is missing," Abby said. "Nobody's seen or heard from him since Saturday morning. I'm afraid something's happened to him – that he's hurt, or the drug caused a delayed psychosis."

"I'm sure that's not the case. He's probably just off somewhere having a sulk."

"Connor's not like that. What if he is having a reaction to the drug? What if his brain has been short-circuited like Gerry Willingham's?" She was becoming distraught.

Barrington shook his head. "No, he didn't have enough of the drug to cause that kind of permanent damage. And the antidote worked; he was completely normal and neurologically intact when he came out of it."

"I hope you're right. Connor has such a brilliant mind … and such a good heart. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to him."

"I could almost believe you have feelings for the boy," Barrington said coldly.

"My God, Michael! My best friend is out there somewhere, in who knows what condition, and you're playing the jealous suitor?" Abby's eyes flashed as she addressed him. "I don't have time to soothe your bruised ego."

"I'm sorry, Abby. Of course I'm also concerned about his welfare. It's just that – "

"Wait a second," Abby interrupted him. "You said Connor didn't have enough of the drug to cause permanent damage. How could you know that? We have no idea how much Gob Connor took."

Barrington flushed. "Well, obviously he didn't have a fatal reaction, so I can only assume the amount of the drug he took was minimal ..."

Abby was staring at him, wide-eyed. "You did it, didn't you?" she gasped. "You slipped Connor some of the Gob!"

"Abby, you can't believe that-"

"Don't deny it, Michael. I can see it in your face. Tell me what you know, or I swear to God I'll have Danny down here in five minutes to administer his very special brand of persuasion."

"Fine," Barrington said, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I did give Connor Temple a dose – a very small dose – of the synthetic Gob."

Abby rushed at him, beating on his chest in mindless fury. "You bastard! You almost killed him!"

He grabbed her flailing arms and held her at arm's distance. "Calm down, Abby. I never intended him to be injured or damaged. I had no idea he'd climb up on the roof, for God's sake."

"Why?" Abby was weeping now. "Why would you do such a thing? Because of me?"

"No. We needed a test case for the antidote. You weren't going to allow animal trials or human volunteers."

"So you took it upon yourself to enroll someone in your experiment without their knowledge? I think you must be mad." The realization of what Barrington was capable of made Abby feel dizzy and sick.

"Please don't be melodramatic," he said icily. "This wasn't some nefarious plan. An opportunity presented itself, and I took it. It was, I admit, somewhat impulsive."

Abby broke away from him and retreated to the far end of the lab. She looked at him as though he were a stranger – and in fact, she realized, he was. "How did you do it?"

"I had a vial of the synthetic Gob in my jacket when I came to find you to take you to the Dorchester. When you left to get changed, I stirred a minute quantity of the powder into that concoction he had on the stove."

"The curry!"

Barrington shrugged. "Is that what it was? In any case, I certainly didn't give him enough to cause the extreme reaction he had. It's possible the alcohol he consumed exacerbated the effects. Or perhaps his nervous system is especially sensitive."

"The fact is, we have no idea what the safe dosage of Gob is, or if there even is one. You also had no real evidence that the antidote was going to work. You were prepared to gamble with Connor's life to satisfy your scientific curiosity!"

"When you're calmer, you'll see that what I did was the logical course of action. Cutting edge science sometimes requires unorthodox methods, and there will always be variables. The gravity and urgency of the Gob situation dictated such an approach."

Abby answered with a bitter, humorless laugh. "Believe me, Michael, I will never see what you did as anything but an act of monstrous hubris. You are not the god you think you are." She eyed him with disgust. "I want you out of my lab. Now."

"Our work isn't finished."

"Oh, I think it is. Either you leave or I'm going to call Lester and the Minister and everybody else I can think of and insist that they conduct a full investigation. Your career will be ruined."

"I really don't think you want to do that," Barrington countered. "I'm afraid things could get very awkward for both of us – not to mention your precious ARC Operation - if you did."

"Is that a threat?"

Barrington took off his lab coat and hung it on a peg near the door. "Not at all," he said. "Just something to think about. It happens that I have some business to attend to at the NSF this afternoon. I'll just leave you to gather yourself together. We can discuss this rationally when I return." He exited the lab before she could order him out again.

Abby sat down at the lab table, shaking with anger and shame. Knowing she'd believed Michael Barrington over Connor Temple made her sick inside. And now Connor was gone, and she had no idea if she'd ever have the chance to apologize. Just then her mobile buzzed. She reached into her lab coat pocket and retrieved it. She didn't recognize the number on the screen.

"Abby Maitland here," she said into the phone, hoping the quaver in her voice wouldn't be noticeable to her caller.

"Abby!" The voice was Connor's.

"Oh my God! Are you all right?" Abby almost shouted into the phone.

"Shhh. I don't have long to talk. I borrowed this phone off some bloke who's passed out in the loo," Connor whispered.

"What? Where are you?"

"A pub in Hackney. Abby, I've found the beggar – the one that bird Linda told you about. Callum Lewis."


	15. Chapter 15

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

It took Abby a few seconds to comprehend what Connor had just told her. "You know where Callum Lewis is?"

"Yeah," came his whispered response through the phone. "He's across the room from me right now."

"Connor, where exactly are you?"

"I told you. A pub called … hang on a minute … the George and Dragon," he answered. "You know, there are some really dodgy places in this part of town – and I've been in every one of them over the past 48 hours."

"What are you up to, Connor Temple?"

"I figured since Becker and Danny weren't having any luck sussing this guy out, and I was at what you might call loose ends, I'd give it a go myself."

Abby frowned into the receiver. "That sounds like a really bad idea." She'd been doing a quick GPS search for the pub while he talked, and pulled up its location on her screen. "Hackney and Shoreditch … Connor, you must stick out like a sore thumb down there."

"Not really. I _have_ been wearing the same clothes for three days." He chuckled. "I even got chatted up a while ago. He wasn't my type, though."

"Very funny. It's amazing and great that you found Callum Lewis. Now let's get Becker and Danny down there to take over."

"No way! Action Man A and B really _would_ attract attention in here. Besides, this is my collar."

"Collar? Connor, this isn't an episode of CSI:NY. Becker and Danny are trained to handle these kinds of situations. You're not."

"And yet I'm the one who tracked him down."

"Yes, I already said I was impressed. But Connor, this is dangerous. I already almost lost you once this week; I don't want to tempt fate again."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. "You're not going to lose me, Abby," Connor said softly. "But by the time Becker and Danny get kitted out and come charging down here, it will be too late."

"Too late for what?"

Connor's voice dropped even lower, and Abby strained to hear him. "I overheard Lewis on the phone, talking about meeting up with his supplier. I'm going to tail him."

"Are you daft?" Abby hissed into the phone. "Connor, I want you to stay right where you are. I'm coming to get you."

"No, Abby."

"I'm already out the door. Do. Not. Move." She flipped the phone shut before he had time to argue with her and hurried to the car park.

Even pushing the speed limit and dodging traffic in a way that positively begged for a panda car to turn on its blue lights, it took Abby nearly half an hour to reach George and Dragon at the intersection of Hackney Road and Shoreditch High Street. All the way she felt her anxiety rising, fully expecting Connor to be long gone by the time she got there; he could be so impetuous, even reckless, when he felt he had something to prove. To her immense relief, however, she discovered her friend slouched against the grimy brick wall of the pub, looking miserable. She parked the Mini and jumped out.

"I'm so glad to see you!" she gasped, pulling him into a tight hug. Then she pulled back and looked at his stubbled face and tousled hair. "Even if you do smell like a mastodon."

He gave her a sheepish smile. "Sorry. Undercover work and personal hygiene seem to be mutually exclusive."

"I was afraid you'd be gone by the time I got here."

"I would have been," he said, pulling a wry face, "except somebody seems to have nicked me scooter."

"Ooh, sorry," she said sympathetically. "Hop in the Mini. I'm taking you home so you can get a hot shower and cup of tea."

He shook his head. "Lewis just left a couple of minutes ago," he said, "heading in that direction." He nodded down the high street. "Maybe we can catch him up."

"Or we could call Danny and Becker. Just putting that out there again," Abby said drily, but Connor was already climbing into the Mini. "Not that doing the sensible thing is ever our first course of action," she sighed, stepping into the driver's side. She looked at Connor and shrugged. "Point the way, Sherlock."

Ten minutes of trolling the backstreets of Hackney brought them no sign of their quarry - but a fair amount of interest from the local tarts, who approached Connor's side of the Mini every time they stopped at a light. "I've never been so popular," Connor joked. "The ladies seem drawn to me rugged good looks."

"Hmm. That, or the animal musk you're giving off," Abby answered, turning down yet another dark street. "If you're done basking in the female attention, can we go home now?"

Connor looked discouraged. "Yeah, looks like we're scuppered." He turned to Abby hopefully. "Can we stop for take-away? I'm starved."

"Chinese or fish and chips?" Abby said, scanning the street ahead for a sign to the A1.

Suddenly Connor let out a whoop and grabbed Abby's arm. "There he is! Right there!" He pointed across the road, where a tall, rough-looking man stood in the shadows of a doorway, in close conversation with a smaller man. That man was oddly dressed in an Anorak with the hood pulled closely around his face and large, dark glasses.

"Pull over!" Connor shouted. He pumped his palms against the roof of the Mini. "Whoo hoo! I can't believe it! We found 'em!"

"I can't stop here," Abby answered. "They'll see us, and Lewis is sure to recognize you from the pub." Abruptly she reached over and pushed Connor under the windscreen as she stepped down on the accelerator. The Mini sped past the two men, and Abby let Connor sit up again as she turned at the next intersection.

"Hey!" Connor groused, rubbing his forehead where it had banged against the glove box. "What are you doing?"

"Coming back around." Two more right turns brought them back to the street where they'd observed the men. Abby pulled the Mini to the kerb, some distance down and across the road from the pair. From this vantage point, Abby and Connor could just make out Callum Lewis and the unknown, oddly dressed stranger engaged in vigorous conversation. At least, it was highly animated from the Anorak-clad man, who gesticulated wildly as Lewis appeared to try to calm him. Finally, the dealer threw up his hands and backed away, stepping into the passenger side of a black SUV with tinted windows that quickly sped away.

"Do we follow the car?" Abby asked.

"Nah. That other one's got to be the supplier He's our man."

They watched as their new object of interest stumbled out of the doorway and meandered down the pavement. Though he kept his head down and the hood of his coat pulled closely around his face, the man seemed to be continuing the spirited discussion he'd been having the Callum Lewis – but now it was with himself. His arms flailed wildly as he weaved down the pavement, and the few other pedestrians gave him a wide berth. As he shuffled in and out of the gutter, apparently aimlessly, the man suddenly shifted directions and lurched into the street — headed straight for Connor and Abby.

"Cor, he's going to see us," Connor blurted. "Now what'll we-"Abby suddenly launched herself across the front seat and threw her arms around Connor, burrowing her face in his neck.

"Pretend you're snogging me," she whispered urgently.

"Wha- okay," came Connor's muffled response as he threw himself into the assignment with gusto.

As she nuzzled Connor's neck – his three-day stubble tickled her cheek – Abby tried to keep one eye on the approaching drugger. Connor, meanwhile, had begun making very convincing "Mmmmm" noises as he buried his nose in her hair.

"Connor," Abby muttered as she shifted position slightly to keep the man in view. "The windows are closed. We don't need sound effects."

"Huh?" Connor sighed. "Oh. Sorry." He fell silent, but kept his hands busy running up her back, then down to her waist. As they started to grope upward again, this time on her front side, Abby abruptly pulled away.

"He's gone on," she said, a little breathlessly.

Connor blinked back at her, looking a little dazed. "Who?"

"The pusher," she answered, pointing to the rear vision mirror, which showed the man's back view as he staggered down the street behind them — still gibbering to himself and apparently not having noticed them at all.

Connor and Abby climbed out of the Mini and closed the doors quietly. As they started after their quarry, Connor leaned in close to Abby. "Maybe we should snog a bit more," he suggested, "in case he turns back."

Abby gave him a playful shove. "Steady on, tiger," she said … hoping he didn't notice the slight flush in her cheeks.

That the man was worried about being followed, even in his muddled state, quickly became apparent. He crossed the road several more times over the next three streets, and they nearly lost him once when he ducked behind a grocer's stand. They hung back, pretending to look in shop windows as he loitered behind the stall until the proprietor pushed him off. Despite his paranoia, the man gave no indication he had seen Connor and Abby as they followed surreptitiously a few dozen meters behind.

At last he turned down a particularly narrow and dingy side street. He paused before the door of a rundown lodging house, looking around quickly before slipping inside. Arriving at the same door a moment later, Abby and Connor hesitated. Abby reached into her pocket and pulled out her mobile. "Now he's holed up in there, it's definitely time to call in back-up," she said, her fingers hovering over the keypad.

"Right. You wait for Becker and Danny here, and I'll keep an eye on our guy," Connor responded, nipping inside before Abby could stop him.

Growling with impatience, she flipped her phone closed and went after him. She found him wandering down a filthy, rubbish strewn corridor. The overhead lights were either turned off or burned out, and the gloom made the hallway seem even more cramped and oppressive.

"Connor!" she hissed. "Come back here!"

"I thought you were going to call for back up," he said, coming back to her.

"Not without you," she retorted, scowling.

He grinned. "Aw, worried about me?"

She didn't share his amusement. "Considering the at least five really stupid things you've done already today, yeah." She tugged at his sleeve. "Look, we know he's in this building. Let's just go outside and wait for Danny and Becker."

"Not until I know which flat he's hiding in."

"And how do you propose to do that?"

Connor tapped the side of his nose. "Follow me unerring instincts … and sense of smell." He wrinkled his nose.

Now that he'd mentioned it, Abby became aware of a peculiar, rank odor emanating from somewhere in the building. "Ugh. What _is_ that? It's like …"

"An open sewer running through a stagnant bog?" Connor prompted.

Abby nodded. "Nasty."

"Of course, in this place it could be almost anything," Connor conceded. "But if prehistoric has a signature smell … I think that might be it." He gestured for Abby to follow him down the hallway and up a dank, sticky stairway to the second floor. The odor sharpened as they went on until they arrived at what was unquestionably the source of the stench: a scarred and paint-chipped door. The odor was thick enough to be almost visible — and Abby imagined that if it was, it would be a particularly nauseating shade of puce green. The smell seemed composed of equal parts vomit, rotten meat and methane gas. Abby fought the urge to retch.

The two huddled together, their mutual grimaces clear evidence of their disgust. Abby noted the battered number on the door: 19. "Okay, I think it's safe to say we've found the right place," Abby whispered. "Now I suggest we go back outside, get some fresh air and _call for back up_."

"Mmm hmmm," Connor was scrutinizing the door, trying to get a glimpse into the apartment through the crack between the door and the warped frame. "You go ahead."

Abby rolled her eyes and stared at the grimy ceiling. "You've got to be the most aggravating, stubborn man I've-"

At that moment the door banged open. The man they'd followed stood in the doorway, his eyes wild and his mouth twisted into a feral snarl. He was cradling a cardboard box in one arm. His other hand held a very large knife. With an inhuman shriek, he raised the weapon over his head and lunged at Abby.

"Abby!" Connor shouted, pushing her out of the way as the knife slashed downward into his chest, knocking Connor across the hallway. Abby screamed as the man ran off down the corridor. Gasping, Connor slowly slid down the wall, a dark stain beginning to spread over the front of his jacket. Abby grabbed him and helped him sink to the floor, then began frantically tugging at his jacket to find his wound.

"Hang on, Connor," she cried, "Just hang on."

He looked up at her with eyes glazed with pain. "This might be a good time to call for that back-up," he wheezed before lapsing into unconsciousness.


	16. Chapter 16

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

A grim-faced Lester entered the infirmary to find Connor Temple on the same gurney he'd occupied a few days before. This time, however, the young man was sitting up and chatting with Abby, who stood by the bedside. Connor was shirtless, and a large elastoplast covered most of his left pectoral muscle. He straightened upon seeing Lester, wincing as the movement tugged at the wound under the bandage.

"This is shaping up to be a rather eventful fortnight for you, Mr. Temple," Lester said.

Connor managed a wry half-grin. "Nine stitches," he said, almost proudly. "Doc says I'll probably have a wicked scar."

"Might I remind you that this is a serious business," Lester retorted. "I'm told you're extraordinarily lucky to be alive."

"He saved my life," Abby said, coming to her friend's defense.

"Indeed. Though one might ask what you were doing there in the first place, abetting a suspended employee conducting an unauthorized investigation in flagrant defiance of my direct order to get some rest," Lester said, his voice rising as he warmed to his bollocking.

"Actually, I-" Connor began, but Lester had far from finished his dressing down. The bureaucrat was in his element; this was what he did best.

"If you choose to spend your off hours in a leather bar in the East end, that is of course entirely your affair," Lester continued. "However, in future I must insist that you refrain from mixing business with your particular brand of pleasure." He reached into the pocket of his expensive suit and pulled out a scan card, mobile and wrist compass, which he dropped onto the bed next to Connor.

"I'm back in?"

"For official purposes, you were never out. Makes the paperwork so much easier when reporting your little … accident," Lester said, nodding at Connor's chest.

"What about the drugging investigation?" Connor asked, strapping his wrist compass back on.

"Weekly blood screens for a month. Assuming they come back clean, I think we can sweep that unfortunate incident under the proverbial rug," Lester said.

"Lester," Abby said quietly. "I have something to tell you about … that."

Connor looked at her curiously, and Abby felt a new wave of shame as she prepared to admit that she'd trusted Barrington.

"What is it, Miss Maitland?"

"Connor didn't take that drug. Barrington slipped it to him." She avoided her friend's eyes as she continued. "Connor told me he thought he'd been set up by Michael, but I didn't want to believe that someone I once … respected … could be capable of something like that."

"I see. And you have proof of this?" Lester asked.

She shook her head. "No. He admitted it to me, but I know he'll deny it now." She found the courage to look at Connor. "I'm so, so sorry, Connor. I should have believed you."

Connor swallowed hard and looked down at the floor for a moment. "It's okay," he finally said, looking up to give her a reassuring smile – and Abby was amazed again at his generous heart. Even after she'd hurt him, he still cared for her. She vowed she'd never betray that loyalty again. She turned back to Lester. "So what can we do? Michael has to pay for what he's done."

"Without evidence, I'm afraid it's just your word against his. And experience suggests the Minister will be rather more interested in avoiding a scandal than seeing justice done," Lester said. "However, I think I can assure you that Dr. Barrington won't be contributing his expertise to any future cases here at the ARC."

"But Connor was almost killed," Abby protested. "And Michael just walks off scot free?"

"It doesn't matter, Abby," Connor said. "As long as he stays as far away from the ARC as it's possible to get, I'm satisfied."

"What an excellent idea," Lester said thoughtfully.

Abby and Connor gave him puzzled looks. "What do you mean?" Abby asked.

"Just an idle thought," Lester said, then continued briskly, "Danny and Becker are due in from the incident scene imminently. If you're feeling up to it, you might join us in a staff status, Temple. Say, 25 minutes?"

"Absolutely," Connor answered. As Lester turned on his heel and left the infirmary, Connor reached for the fresh T-shirt Abby had retrieved from his locker and tried to put it on. "Aa-aa-aah." He flinched as the effort to raise his arms pulled at his stitches. "Smarts a bit, that."

"Let me," Abby said. She pulled the shirt over his head and gently guided his arms through the sleeves. "There," she said, brushing back a lock of hair that had fallen over his eyes. "You look very smart."

"Thanks," Connor smiled. Then a slightly worried look crossed his face. "You don't reckon Lester really thinks I'm into leather bars, do you?"

Abby's laughter drifted down the halls of the ARC.


	17. Chapter 17

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin. As it turned out, it was nearly an hour before Danny and Becker returned to the ARC and changed their own clothes, which reeked of whatever it was that made the suspect's flat so aromatic. The whole team finally assembled in the conference room to hear their report.

"The place was a NHS inspector's nightmare," Danny commented. "Trash, chemicals, rotting food … and a body." He paused as expressions of shock rippled around the table.

"This body … was it the man we're looking for?" Lester asked.

"No. It was a woman. Dead several days at least. She'd been stabbed multiple times and the body placed in a huge glass tank, like a fish tank, only there was no water in it – just a lot of moss and gravel."

"Sounds like a reptarium," Abby suggested.

"The body and the walls of the tank were covered with some thick, slimy substance. The special hazmat team is still doing clean up. I don't expect the place to be habitable for some time."

"So if the victim wasn't our supplier, who was it?" Lester asked.

"No ID on the body, but an identifying mark," Becker answered, consulting his notes. "A small tattoo of a rose on the inside of her wrist."

Abby suddenly felt sick. "A rose tattoo? Was she thin, with bleached hair?"

Becker nodded. "Yeah. You know her?"

"Yes," Abby said desolately. "It's the girl whose boyfriend was at Maudsley Hospital, the one who gave us Callum Lewis's name." She slumped in her chair, feeling sad, hopeless and so very tired. "She told me she was leaving town, going to stay with a mate in the north. She must have found out who the supplier was and went to have it out with him on her own."

Abby was quiet through the rest of her colleagues' report. She felt hollow, almost numb with the shock of Linda's death. Becker noted that the tenant of the flat had not returned, but a security detail was on site in the event that he showed up. "I have a feeling he's skived it. We know he left in a hurry, and probably took whatever he needed with him."

"He was holding a box when he came at us," Connor said, "but I didn't get a good look at it. One thing's for sure, though. Whatever's producing that stuff is affecting this bloke. He was well barmy."

Lester looked pensive. "So essentially we're no closer to resolving this situation than we were before," he said. "We've got an unknown subject, in possession of an unknown creature, in an unknown location. Marvelous."

"Actually, I'm quite chuffed with our progress," Danny said smugly. "We rang up the landlord and asked him whose name is on the lease for number 19."

"And?" Lester was growing impatient.

"Alex Williamson," Becker jumped in, reading from his notes.

"That name's familiar," Sarah said.

Danny nodded. "It should. He was our first victim, the kid who turned up dead at Glastonbury."

"So we're looking for a ghost?" Lester said, clearly displeased. "That's very helpful."

"Williamson's name was on the lease," Danny replied, "but for the past couple of months the rent has been paid by his flatmate. One Gavin Timberlain."

"Small-potatoes pusher with a few minor arrests," Becker added. "But a couple of months ago he started coming into some serious dosh – spent like a sailor on shore leave. Then, a few weeks ago he dropped out of sight."

"Just about the time Gob started attracting attention," Sarah commented.

"It appears we've identified our man," Lester said. "Now how do you propose we find him?"

"As Connor said, his continued exposure to the substance has affected his mind," Becker said. "Now he's on the run, I expect it won't be long before he attracts attention to himself."

"Well, let's just hope he turns up before whatever came through the Anomaly shows up on top of Nelson's Column," Lester said. "I'd really like to locate this thing before the BBC does."


	18. Chapter 18

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

The nervous murmurs and stares from his fellow passengers would have alarmed Gavin only a day ago, but now he was oblivious to them and to their obvious disgust at the foetid smell that clung to him. As the coach bumped along the A37 through a dark Somerset night, he hunched over the soggy carton on his lap, whispering soothing words to the precious treasure within. Occasionally he lifted one corner of the lid to peer in at the creature. It was so silent, so still. Only its green eyes, burning up at him in an unblinking stare, reassured Gavin that it still lived.

It had been weeks since the creature had eaten anything; even the sacrifice of fresh, bloody carrion Gavin had offered several days ago had been left untouched. That surprised Gavin; he felt sure, when the woman had come banging on his door, screaming about him having killed her boyfriend, that the Great One had brought her to him as a test to allow Gavin to demonstrate his loyalty to his master. But it had just crawled over the corpse and into a corner of the tank, where it sat unmoving until Gavin had tenderly lifted it into the moss-lined cardboard carton in preparation for their present journey.

It was that posh couple in the Mini that proved he needed to find a safe place for the Great One. Did those two really believe he didn't know they were following him? Could they not see that his master had heightened his senses, given him powerful eyes to see and keen ears to hear any hint of a threat? He had planned to wait inside his flat until they'd gone off again, but crouching in the darkness cradling the Great One in his arms, Gavin had felt his master urging him on. There was no time to waste, and any obstacles must be dealt with — swiftly and mercilessly. So he'd taken up his knife, the one he'd used to sacrifice the girl, and attacked the enemy at the gates. He'd felt the point strike home, sinking into soft flesh … but his courage had failed him, and he'd run away.

Gavin was tormented by his weakness; perhaps that was the reason the Great One hadn't spoken to him since he'd carried him onto this coach almost three hours ago. His master was angry with him. The thought struck terror into Gavin's heart. He could only plead silently for forgiveness and hope a chance would come to redeem himself. Driven by some compulsion he could not deny, he'd made his way to the National Express station and purchased a one-way ticket to Glastonbury. He must bring the Great One home.

Now Gavin reached into the box and laid a palm reverently on the creature's broad, mucous-covered back, rejoicing to feel the rise and fall of its slow breathing. Moved by extraordinary visions, Gavin began to sing — a weird, wordless keening that started low and rose higher and higher in volume and pitch until it resembled a shriek. Gavin rocked back and forth in time to a rhythm only he heard as passengers in nearby seats looked at him with increasing alarm. Suddenly the coach lurched to a halt at the side of the road. The driver, a short, stocky man with a look of no nonsense about him, stalked to the back seat where Gavin was. He grabbed the young man by the collar of his Anorak and hauled him to his feet.

"Awright, that's about enough of that," he barked, giving Gavin a push up the aisle. "I'll have no nutters on my bus." Gavin fell silent and clutched the carton to his chest tightly as the driver harried him down the steps to the open exit door. As he stepped from the coach, Gavin stumbled and sprawled headlong onto the gravel at the verge. The box tumbled out of his arms and onto its side, its damp seams giving way. The driver stared open-mouthed at the contents of the carton, barely visible in the thin light emanating from inside the coach. It was an enormous toad, and it looked up at the driver with luminous green eyes that were alien and malevolent. With a cry of horror, the driver reared back, slamming the door behind him as Gavin snatched the creature into his arms and staggered off into the field beyond the road.

"I'm sorry about Linda, Abby," Connor said as the two made their way from the conference room after the meeting. "Linda had such a sad life," Abby responded sadly, "She deserved better than to live on the street and die in some pusher's squalid den."

Despite the late hour, no one from the team seemed inclined to go home. Instead, they dispersed throughout the complex – Lester to his office, Becker to the weight room, Danny off to watch the football in the lounge, Sarah to her small lab and Abby and Connor back to the control centre. Everyone was on edge as they waited – and hoped – for their suspect to surface somewhere.

Abby sat down in the lone chair in the room, the seat facing the bank of screens that constantly scanned the country for Anomaly activity. Connor hunkered down behind the control panel, testing and fiddling with the intricate circuitry in an ongoing effort to make the device's sensors even more acutely sensitive. Abby watched his face, smiling at the little furrow that always appeared over his eyes when he was intensely focused on some task. Occasionally he winced slightly as a shift in position irritated his wound, but he didn't complain about the pain. Abby understood how important it was for Connor to be considered an equal member of the team, as tough and capable as Becker or Danny or even Abby. It didn't seem to occur to him that he had skills they couldn't hope to match – his genius with electronics, for example, or his encyclopedic knowledge of the names, features and behaviors of the creatures they encountered.

"Thank you for forgiving me," Abby said softly, almost to herself.

Connor's head popped up. "Huh?"

"I said I'm glad you've forgiven me for being so stupid about Barrington. You were so angry … it scared me."

Connor looked faintly surprised. "Was I?" He grinned and shrugged. "Somehow I find it difficult to stay mad at you for any length of time." He turned back to his task. "And anyway, I should be beggin' _your_ forgiveness for dragging you into my little cloak-and-dagger escapade. That was kind of stupid, I guess."

"Yes, it was," Abby answered with mock sternness. "Because it almost got you killed – again. On the other hand, you did manage to find Callum Lewis, AND Gavin Timberlain and the place where he's been holed up. Even Becker and Danny couldn't manage that. And now we have a real chance of finding this guy and the creature, thanks to you."

Connor didn't respond, but Abby saw a happy smile spread over his face at her words. Abby felt an unexpected rush of happiness herself as she realized that there was no place she felt more comfortable or secure than here with him. She'd never felt this close to anyone before – not even Michael. With Connor, Abby knew she could be entirely herself, and he would always accept her and care for her. His friendship had become so precious to her; she didn't know what she would do if she ever lost it.

She was about to suggest they order in some pizza when a warning claxon made her jump in her chair. The Anomaly detector had sprung into life and was now displaying a large, blinking target over a point in the Southwest of the country. An Anomaly had opened … somewhere in the vicinity of Glastonbury.


	19. Chapter 19

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin.

Some time during the night, a thick fog rolled in from the sea, flowing over the Quantock Hills and onto the Somerset Levels, covering the grassy heaths and creeping along the hedgerows. Early dawn brought only the barest lifting of the gloom, the countryside lightening by slow gradations from inky blackness to slate to pale ash and finally to a milky luminescence.

Gavin staggered onward blindly, as insensible to his surroundings as he was to the cuts and bruises that covered his body after a night of stumbling through fields and brambles, over jagged boulders and into rocky gullies. He had at some point tumbled into a shallow but swift-running stream, being swept off his feet and dragged several hundred metres until he slammed headfirst into a large rock. Blood streaming from his crushed nose covered his sodden Anorak as he scrambled onto the bank and lurched on through the darkness. He was driven by some instinct toward the very spot where he'd discovered his Beloved months before.

Cocooned inside Gavin's coat, the Great One was very still. In vain Gavin had spoken to his master, pleaded for some sign of reassurance that it was pleased with its servant's actions. But though Gavin heard many other voices as he wandered that lonely landscape – voices that whispered dark secrets and screamed obscene curses – the Great One had been silent.

The creature's breathing had become shallow and slow as Gavin drove himself onward far past the point of exhaustion. He began to sing in an attempt to drown out the shrill, accusing voices and ward off the demonic shapes that loomed at him out of the fog:

Who killed Cock Robin?

I, said the **Sparrow**,

with my bow and arrow,

I killed Cock Robin.

Who saw him die?

I, said the **Fly**,

with my little eye,

I saw him die.

Who caught his blood?

I, said the **Fish**,

with my little dish,

I caught his blood.

It was an ancient rhyme, taught to him as a small child by his mother. But midway through the verse the tune and words slipped away from his addled mind and he lapsed into a wordless, monotone chant.

He knew he was close now, the trees and landscape taking on the familiar shape of the grounds at Worthy Farm. Far ahead of him, a dancing yellow glow pierced the steely gray fog. Gavin fixed his bleary eyes on the sight … and stumbled over a rough piece of ground. He screamed as he careened forward, twisting his body to land on his side, protecting his precious cargo from the brunt of the fall. As he hit the ground, he heard a sickening snap and felt a jolt like electricity run through him. Rolling over onto his back, he observed with only mild interest the jagged shard of bone protruding from the torn sleeve of his Anorak. He struggled to regain his feet, but with his right arm dangling uselessly, he could only fail helplessly like a beetle on its back. Yet giving up was not an option. The glow was pulsating … tantalizingly close. Gavin thought he heard new voices – sweet, hypnotic sounds – calling to him from inside that beautiful light.

Inside his jacket, the creature stirred against Gavin's chest, the first movement it had made in days. It was a sign. Gavin forced himself to his knees and started crawling.

Connor, Abby, Becker and Danny sat side by side in the cabin of a black Lynx helicopter speeding at 150 knots some 2,000 metres above the English countryside. The ARC had access to military aircraft in situations like this, when the distance from HQ and transient nature of Anomalies made travel by SUV impracticable. Not surprisingly, Connor loved these occasions.

"You know, I used to think these black choppers were used for top-secret UFO investigations," he shouted above the roar of the powerful engines. "Crop circles, mutilated livestock, that kind of thing."

Becker gave him a serious look. "Nope. They keep that fleet at Catterick Garrison," he shouted back. "And they're invisible." Maintaining his customary military reserve, he didn't crack a smile … and Connor was left wondering if what he said might actually be true.

Concerned about his injury and overall state of exhaustion, Abby had tried to discourage Connor from making the trip - but that was like taking a kid to Disneyworld and asking him to wait in the car park. And Connor was the only one really comfortable operating his new Anomaly-locking device. So Abby had helped him pack up the equipment and stow it on the helicopter, making a mental note to keep a close eye on him if things got dicey in the field; they never knew when an Anomaly opened what, if anything, would seize the opportunity to cross from its world into ours.

The pilot turned in his seat and pointed to Danny, then to his headset. The former cop made his way to the front of the craft and pulled on the radio headset, listening intently and then saying something back to someone on the other end of the receiver. After a moment he returned to the back of the copter and updated the team.

"That was Sarah," he explained. "A man was kicked off a National Express coach last night for causing a disturbance. The driver reported seeing some kind of creature, like a huge frog, in the man's possession."

"Where did this occur?" Abby asked.

"A few kilometers from Glastonbury — in fact, not far from where our Anomaly opened up. Something tells me that's no coincidence."

"How long before we land?" Becker asked.

"It may be a while," Danny answered. "There's a heavy fog and visibility is about nil. With any luck the wind will pick up and blow this soup back out to sea. If it doesn't … we may have to turn back and set down somewhere until it clears."

Abby looked at her four teammates and saw tension written on all their faces. Between an open Anomaly and the probability that their suspect was on the ground with the creature, there was no time to waste.

It had taken more than an hour for Gavin to crawl the few dozen metres to where the Anomaly was shimmering and spinning in the air. The knees of his jeans had worn through as he dragged himself painfully over the rough ground, and the exposed flesh was shredded and embedded with gravel. Knife-like pains radiated from his broken arm and his nose had begun to bleed again, dripping over his mouth and chin. Throughout the long, excruciating journey, Gavin had not taken his eyes from the Anomaly, drawn to its glow like a moth to moonlight.

The fog had begun to lift, causing the swirling shards of light to glint more brightly. Staring into its luminous heart, Gavin could make out a weird, alien landscape: dense, jungle-like foliage and, in the background, a smoldering volcano. Only yards from that glittery portal, Gavin's strength gave out. He slumped onto his side, screaming as his broken arm took the full weight of his body. He tried to rise, but couldn't. He had come so far, was so close … and yet he would fail his Master. Gavin maneuvered onto his back, an effort that cost him the very last of his energy. Barely able to lift his head, he reached with his one good arm to unzip his Anorak, revealing the Great One.

The giant amphibian was hunched on Gavin's chest, its green eyes open, but glazed over. The last of the fog cleared and the Anomaly shone with full brightness, bathing the creature in an orange glow. It opened its enormous mouth and let out a deep, mournful tone like the call of a lighthouse. Then its jaw slackened, the mouth falling wide open as the luminous glow faded from its eyes. The Devil Toad was dead.

Gavin let his head fall back as tears streamed down his face and choking sobs convulsed his body. It had all been for nothing. Suddenly he sensed some movement from the creature. He raised his head again and gazed with astonishment at the dead creature's open mouth. Something was stirring inside that cavernous maw. As Gavin watched, a small, webbed foot suddenly protruded from the mouth, followed by a head with luminous green eyes. The toadlet clambered out of its mother's body and crept up Gavin's chest, fixing its cold gaze on Gavin's face. Behind it more small creatures erupted from the giant toad's gullet and began crawling over the man's body. They were all covered with the same thick mucosa as the adult, and left glistening trails of slime as they moved down Gavin's legs, under his jacket, into the soft folds of flesh beneath. The drug dealer felt sudden, exquisite needle-pricks of pain all over his body … and smiled, lowering his head and closing his eyes. Now he knew why he had been called here. He would prove himself to his Master after all.

The rotors of the helicopter had not stopped turning before the ARC team was on the ground, fanning out in search of the Anomaly their instruments told them was still active. Their hand-held detectors directed them into a wooded area and soon a faint glow appeared between the trees in the distance. Becker, Abby and Danny unslung their weapons while Connor hastily assembled the components of his Anomaly Lock as the team quickened their pace. Experience had taught them not to be surprised by anything they discovered in the vicinity of an Anomaly — but what they saw as they drew close to their target caused all four to stop dead in their tracks.

"Oh my God," Abby gasped, recoiling from the scene. On the ground in front of the Anomaly lay the body of a man. Dozens of small, mottled brown toads swarmed the corpse, which had been partially consumed by the creatures.

As the team stood paralyzed with horror, a noise emanated from the Anomaly. It was a low-pitched thrumming, punctuated by long, haunting calls. At the sound, the juvenile Beelzebufo stopped feeding and turned to face the Anomaly. As the guttural calls continued, the small creatures began to creep off the body and make their way toward the Anomaly.

"What's going on?" Danny said to no one in particular.

"Sounds like their Daddy is calling them home," Connor suggested.

Watching the little creatures hop toward the light, it occurred to Abby that she might have considered them rather cute … if it weren't for the bloody evidence of their gruesome feast. Danny motioned to her and Becker to spread out into a semi-circle, ready to intercept any of the prehistoric amphibians who might try to escape. But the toadlets moved as a unit toward, and then into, the Anomaly. As the last of them faded from view in the golden haze, Danny gave Connor the signal to close the Anomaly. The young man flipped a switch on his device, which emitted a sharp beam of light. Instantly the Anomaly collapsed in on itself, condensing to an intensely bright, spinning ball of light. And then, with a flash, it was gone.

While Connor took apart and carefully packed up his device and Danny and Becker scouted the area to make sure there were no other incursions, Abby knelt beside the drug dealer's mutilated body and gently lifted the remains of the adult Beelzebufo into a specimen bag to bring back to the ARC. She would leave it to Becker to arrange for a tidy disposal of the corpse of Gavin Timberlain; she expected to hear, in a few days, news reports of a drug overdose victim being found in the Thames or under a flyover. An entire unit back at the ARC had become quite expert at making unusual deaths appear entirely ordinary. It was a necessary subterfuge … but it made Abby uneasy to think about it. She turned away from the scene and hurried to catch up with Connor, who had started back toward the copter.

"Hey," she said to him. "Didn't you tell me you attended Glastonbury Festival once?"

"Attended? I'll have you know I _performed_ here."

"Uh huh. Pull the other one," she said, giving him a distinctly skeptical look.

"I swear!" he insisted. He pointed toward a slight rise in the distance. "It was over there, right on the Acoustic stage."

They reached the waiting Lynx and Abby stowed her specimen bag in the hold. "I suppose you jammed with the Proclaimers."

Connor climbed aboard the chopper and extended a hand to help Abby into her seat. "Not exactly," he mumbled. "It was a few years ago, and I was with a group from my hometown."

"Anybody I've heard of?" Abby prodded.

"I doubt it."

She looked at him expectantly until he sighed. "Okay, fine. But this is for your ears only." He looked around to make sure Danny and Becker weren't within earshot. "I was the featured soloist with …" he grimaced slightly, "… the Blackburn Boys' Chorus."

Abby was still giggling when the copter took off a few minutes later.


	20. Chapter 20

Fandom: Primeval Characters: Connor Temple, Abby Maitland Rating: PG, at most Timeline: Set between 3.4 & 3.5 Disclaimer: Obviously a copyright infringement, but surely not worth suing over Summary: A string of bizarre deaths brings Abby Maitland face-to-face with a past she'd tried to forget, and her friendship with Connor Temple is tested as the team races to find the source of an ancient, deadly toxin. Abby was greeted with an unpleasant surprise when she stepped into her lab the next morning. Michael Barrington stood at the lab table, stuffing papers into his leather satchel.

"What are you doing here?" she asked coldly.

"Just collecting my things," he said, not looking up. "The Minister has given me a new assignment, thanks to the recommendation of your boss, James Lester." He snapped the attaché shut. "Eighteen months in a tent in Borneo."

Abby fought to keep from smirking, and made a mental note to give Lester a hug when next she saw him. "It sounds like the ideal situation for you. Rough conditions, surely … I'm sure you'll rise to the challenge."

"Come with me."

Abby gaped at him. "What? Of all the cheek! I can't believe even _you_ would have the gall to suggest that after what you've done."

He came to her and looked intently into her wide, blue eyes. "I know you're still angry about my … experiment … on Connor Temple."

"Attempted murder, more like!"

He continued as though she hadn't spoken. "But with a little time, I'm sure you'll see that you belong with a real man." He reached out and gently cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger.

Abby jerked away and glared at him with undisguised disgust. "You'll never be half the man Connor Temple is," she spat.

Barrington seemed genuinely surprised. "You couldn't actually care for that pusillanimous pup," he snorted.

She looked thoughtful for a moment. Then a slow smile spread over her face. "You know, Michael — I believe I could." Turning on her heel, she left Barrington looking stunned.

"You're late!" Abby said as Connor appeared in the doorway of the staff lounge.

He looked puzzled. "Uh, sorry. I just got your text to meet you here." Stepping into the room, he took in Abby's carefully arranged scene: a board game laid out on the coffee table, several cartons of Chinese takeaway and a bottle of white wine. "What's going on?"

She grabbed his sleeve and pulled him over to the sofa. "Last Wednesday," she said.

"Last Wednesday?"

"Yep!" She sat him down and reached for the wine. "Our Second Friday video night didn't work out so well … so I thought it was time for a new tradition."

Connor looked down at the game board and whistled appreciatively. "Trivial Pursuit – Star Wars Classic Trilogy edition!" Grinning, he looked at her and waggled his eyebrows. "Abby Maitland, you're a woman after my own heart."

She returned his smile. "Pick your pie and pass the potstickers, smart guy."


End file.
